


Go Your Own Way

by Malice_and_Macarons



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Ending, Angst, Betrayal, Character Death, Complete, Feels, Historical Hetalia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mind Games, Past Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 19:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 240,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4191828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malice_and_Macarons/pseuds/Malice_and_Macarons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has done some awful things and no matter how much he regrets it or how sorry he is, forgiveness is hard to come by. On the other hand Germany has some cruel things in mind and is more than willing to abuse Arthur's mistakes to have his way, even if it breaks the middle person in the game. DarkHetalia. Warning: Abuse, Dark Themes and some Non-con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Conviction

**Author's Note:**

> Beware the flash backs.

_Where have I seen this before…?_

Heavy rain beat down on those already beaten and broken that occupied this scene. Mud clung stubbornly to clothes and flesh alike, blood mingling with the steady flow of salty tears, covered only by the unforgiving down pour of rainwater.

In the gloom of the overcast evening, originally vivid colours appeared muted and lacklustre, the very world bleeding out into a monotone of greys and browns.  Once bright green eyes faded to nothing more than a memory of what they once were as the owner stared down upon its brother nation.    
Again on his knees, in the dirt and the rain.

_Where has this scene fit in before…?_

“Why…” Broken words came from the fallen nation’s mouth. Quietly at first, barely audible above the sound of rain pounding against the earth below and yet somehow the other had still heard him, still heard that quit cry of misery and ruin. Yet those dulled eyes watched on without change, watched as blood turned the water pink on its way down the nations crying face.  
It hurt to look at, it made the nation’s chest tight to see it but those faded hues couldn’t turn away, this would be the end of all those years of brewing hatred and grieving. Just a little longer and it’d finally end.

“Damn it! Why? Tell me, why do you never listen to anything you’re told?” There was a pause, shoulders heaved heavily under the pressure of agony and then there was a scream.

“Why can you never do as you’re told!?” That strained shout was thick with the tears he had no doubt been harbouring long before this began. But as to where this truly started the standing male could no longer be sure. Was it the day he was cast aside or perhaps the day the fallen nation was cast aside in turn? The thought made those faded eyes spark just slightly and turn skywards towards the thick blanket of black clouds that continued to pour icy water down on them from above.   
The day that the broken nation was first abandoned, not by him but by another young nation after his freedom –  yes, the offending nation knew just why this setting was so eerily familiar.

_Ah, I remember now….  
It’s from that time when that Yankee…_

The nation’s hands clenched down unforgivingly on his weapon when the realisation dawned on him. This scene belonged not here but back during another time so long ago. The only other time he’d ever seen the great nation before him on his knees in such agonising pain and now it was on repeat. That one moment he’d never intended to see again and here it was playing out right in front of him – all this doing.

Gradually his gaze did drop back down towards the dirt, was this the same view that the Yankee bastard had when he tore a hole in their way of life? Did he take joy in seeing it or did that man perhaps feel the same heart ripping sensation that he now felt?

For just a second there was hesitation as the drenched nation’s free hand pressed to his chest, willing away that heartache. The weapon now weighed heavier in the hand of the standing nation. It proved to be a brief and insignificant hesitation and was gone as quickly as it came. An order was shouted from a short distance behind the two, immediately wiping away that momentary pause and not a second later the deadly weapon was brought up high into the air above the fallen nations head, stopped a second time in its decent by the other’s voice crying out once more.

Shaking his head England cried out with all of the suffering he’d been forced to endure. All of the loss he was being forced to feel again and all of the pain that was still to come.  
“Answer me…! _Australia_!"

_Just how had things gotten to this point_ …?

 

…  
…  
…

 

Australia woke with a start.

That morning the sun burnt country was awoken with a gasp of alarm and a pounding heart, not because he could feel the spider crawling ever so leisurely along his leg for the past half an hour or because of the possum that had been screeching its displeasure at a feral dog that had been bothering it.

No. Australia had jumped awake, seemingly out of nowhere, that morning.  
Leaping up straight in bed with one hand pressed to his forehead and the other gripping the bed sheets tightly as the sound of his heart pounded in his ears. His chest was heaving and Australia’s heart seemed to be trying to make an escape attempt with how hard it was hammering against his ribs.

The island nation did not remember exactly what had awoken him with such a horrendous pain and fear, nor did he care to try.   
The truth was that this wasn’t an unusual occurrence for him – it was pretty standard. He already knew he’d woken from a nightmare of some sort or another. Most likely he’d been reliving old memories he couldn’t seem to smother.   
When Australia closed his emerald hues he knew he’d begin to see it again. The past transformed into nightmarish images by his own guilty conscience, come to haunt his rest every night. Under his eyes black bags were slowing forming from continued lengths of time without a good nights sleep. No matter how tired he might be, the young nation couldn’t afford to nap and he couldn’t bring himself to sleep – knowing he’d only dream again.

Gradually his eyes slipped over towards the window. Dust filled the room and floated lazily through the morning rays of light that the open window provided, reminding Australia of just how filthy his room was.   
If he cared then perhaps the pile of clothes thrown haphazardly into a corner of the room would be washed or maybe the slowly growing nest of spiders on the ceiling would be shooed out. They were on their third generation of babies already, soon there’d be nothing left of the roof besides the black cluster of spider bodies.

Outside the window the now fully awoken Australian could see the thick bush land and even sighted a few birds that took their dear sweet time screaming good morning to the rest of his country, agitating him in the early morning.  
While he gazed out the window idly there was a shifting in the sheets besides him. For a second the Australian had thought maybe a snake had snuck into his bed during the night but when a pair of warm arms wrapped lazily around his shoulders he realised it was a worse kind of pest.

“Bro?” Chris’s sleepy voice murmured and when Jett glanced back over at the other all he saw was a mess of brown hair and sleepy eyes. Yet no matter how messy his brother’s hair did get, two strands always stood higher than the rest.  
“…Mate, you look like crap. Bad dream?” Jett sighed heavily as his brother hung off of him, perhaps it was meant to be some kind of affection?

“What are you doing in my bed again Chris? Weren’t you going to visit the American, when did you get back?” Jett did not remember his brother coming home the night before so he must have slipped in some time after two in the morning.

“Alfred and I got into an argument….” Chris mumbled while trying to remove the heavy sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Drop bears?” Jett asked dryly.

“Drop bears.” Chris confirmed with a soft snort.

Those two had been arguing about the existence of drop bears for years now, switching sporadically between which one would claim it to be real and which would deny it.   
America must have been driving himself mad swapping between what was true and what was simply a lie that they’d told to scare him in the war time. He always was such a spineless little scaredy cat that America.  
Australia did enjoy toying with the American soldiers and counting salt rings had been a very popular pass time back in the day.

“Well whatever, could you get off me now? It’s too early in the morning to punch you.” All Jett got for his words was silence.

“Chris?” Jett tried to get a response out of his brother and was given more muteness for his efforts.

“Christian?” He tried again, getting more silence for his efforts.

“Mate.” If Jett had a dollar….

“Mate, I’m friggin’ serious. If you think you can just…-“ Jett’s angry words were cut short when he looked back at his brother. The brown haired nation had fallen asleep with his arms still looped around his big brother. Jett reached for the two strands of brown hair that stuck up straight, planning on tugging them and waking Chris cruelly but his hand flinched, coming to a stop before it could do any damage.

When he looked at Chris’s sleeping face there was a sharp twisting feeling in his chest. Jett knew this was because the nightmare he had last night included the wild nation, as they so often did. Chris was, for all intents and purposes, Australia now.

Jett’s hand lowered down by his side and with a sigh he allowed Christian to doze on his shoulder. The truth was Jett wasn’t really the nation anymore. It belonged more and more to Chris every day but he did not feel any ill will towards his little brother, any ill feelings he may have harboured were smothered by past crimes against the younger nation.   
Even if Chris didn’t always remember those days, Jett could not forget them.   
Jett never truly forgot anything.

Closing his eyes Jett could still see it, still see the agony he’d inflicted on Chris back in those days. The tears he’d caused him to shed, the blood he’d drawn himself, the masses that had died in Chris’s care. All by Jett’s doing.

It hadn’t been his fault, really it hadn’t. He was just following orders. Yes that’s right, just following orders – that’s all. Besides Christian was a savag--

Jett jerked his head back and shook it, his mind had been wandering into dangerous waters. He didn’t see Chris that way anymore, he was his precious little brother. There was no room for that kind of thinking, no room for that English colony crap.  
_English colony_ ….  
_Arthur_ ….

Jett felt something rough jabbing away at his cheek, drawing him away from his thoughts. Why could he not have a single morning where he wasn’t assaulted with pokes and sudden bear hugs? At the very least the spiders that would crawl over his face when he slept had the good sense to bug off when he swatted at them, Chris didn’t seem to get that message.

“Your face looks serious.” Chris had woken up again and entertained his sleepy mind with poking away at Jett’s face. His finger continued to poke and jab until it got close to his big brother’s nose. The scar there was off limits and even the carefree Australian didn’t dare cross that line.

“Get off me already!” Jett snapped back at him. “Don’t you have jobs to do?”

“Hm?” Chris thought about it for a moment before slumping back onto Jett. “Ah…yeah. So what?”

“Then get up and do them!” Chris didn’t look terribly interested in doing his chores; even as a nation he completely flunked his duties in favour of sitting back and enjoying the sun shine and sand between his toes.

“Can’t you do them for me bro? You’re the oldest.” Chris asked lazily before yet another thought entered his head, completely removing any ideas on doing his chores.   
“Oh hey! How would you feel about some cane toad hunting? They’re getting even worse as of late. We could go up north, I’ll get the clubs and you could use the poison spray. It’ll be great! Or if you don’t want to do that how about we hit the surf? I heard that the blue bottles moved off shore this morning.”

“Chris!” Jett shouted his little brother’s name, the geckos on the walls scurrying off in fright at the sound of the angry nation, hell even the koala woke up and glared at the two from his perch. Not for the first time Jett wondered if it intended to kill them both one day. Chris on the other hand only laughed and rubbed the back of his head, not at all put off by his brother’s anger.

“Easy there mate. Too early in the morning for that, don’t you think?” Well that they _did_ agree on. It was eleven o’clock and Jett didn’t fancy being riled up so early.

“What chores do you have today?” Jett finally asked, seeing no other way to get anything done without his help. Chris wouldn’t do it, he’d instead be distracted by some kind of shiny object or animal and plant life, so Jett would have to watch over him for today. Just like most other days.

“Ah…leme see.” Chris murmured, scratching at the band-aid over his nose thoughtfully. “Ah! That’s right, something about our new boss. Apparently they aren’t too popular.” Jett gave a heavy hearted sigh. There was nothing new about that, their last few bosses or so had been disasters in one way or another. It was a bit troubling when they were juggling them around like that.

“What else?” Chris frowned as he was forced to remember the boring stuff he’s sooner push aside for some good fun.

“Uh…our farmers are complaining again. There’s not enough water.” Again no surprise. Their climate had always been hot and somewhat unforgivable at times, but lately the rainfall had been dwindling to dangerously low levels. Drought was far too common and coming about too often for the farmers to recover properly.  
“Hey, I know what we should do.” Jett raised his bushy eye brow towards Chris who gave his usual cheerful grin. This idea was going to be awful he just knew it.

“Let’s take some of Iggy’s!” Jett flinched but Chris went on regardless. “He’s always covered in rain ain’t he? Let’s snatch some of his!” Chris yelped in pain as Jett’s fist came down on his head.

“You bloody moron! It doesn’t work that way.” It really was too early in the morning for this nonsense…

 

…  
…  
…

 

“Get up.” Jett ordered from where he stood in front of the mirror. His clothes were still a mess but less so than Chris’s. His brown digger’s uniform scattered around the floor thoughtlessly, at least Jett had kept his in the pile in the corner. Some consideration wouldn’t go amiss.  
From the bed Jett heard Chris groaning and rolling about in the blankets. It was beginning to tick on over towards twelve and no doubt they’d be getting a call from their boss any minute now about slaking and some desperate plea for help.

“I’m serious, get the hell up.” Watching Chris roll over again in bed through the mirror Jett just caught a glimpse of some of the scars on his shirtless brother’s body. They were familiar marks but he doubted anyone else would have seen them; they were faded almost to the point that Jett thought perhaps he only saw them through his remorseful filter.

Gradually Jett’s eyes travelled to his own face to look at the scar running across his nose. Sure enough it was still there and still hideous.  
On a fundamental level Jett looked strikingly like his little brother. Their faces were the same shape, and they shared similar traits throughout their entire lives. However Jett did have some core differences to Christian. His hair was a lighter shade of filthy blonde while Chris’s hair was a rich brown colour. Jett was pale and a bit lanky, Chris was tanned and well built. Jett’s hair was long and kept back in a low pony tail, Chris’s hair was short and messy.

Jett went to great lengths to keep his two strands from sticking up into the air like Chris’s tended to. He didn’t want to have anything that reminded him of that ruddy American pig. So while he stared at himself in the mirror he raked at his hair until they were brought down into his hair, hiding them from the world.

Their clothes were only separated by a darker shade, they both wore the digger’s uniform with their green and red ties but while Chris wore shorts, Jett wore longer pants with boots to have them tucked in. They were not trying to mirror one another after all, they simply both felt a need to wear the uniforms that meant so much to them. As Jett’s hand ran across his clothes he remembered a time when he had worn different attire. It was the uniform he wore in all of his nightmares and he’d forever keep it locked away out of sight in the cupboard, where it belonged.

He and Christian shared a face, right down to the mark across their noses. Only for Chris it was that small band-aid that ran over his skin and some considered to actually be cute, for Jett it was that damn scar.  
Often Chris had offered to give him a band-aid but he always denied him furiously. When he saw himself in the mirror and when others looked at him he wanted that scar to remind the world of who he was, how he’d gotten it and come to be where he was. It was proof of who he had been and who he was now and that…he had not yet faded away.

It was always baffling to Jett – how similar yet completely different he and Chris were. It was his own doing of course. If he went out into the sun more or climbed as many trees and Chris he’d probably be tanned and larger too – but Jett absolutely didn’t want to look like that. In fact the more Jett looked at himself, the less he saw the similarities between them – Jett looked a bit more like another brother of theirs and that thought just killed him inside.

“I know you think you’re godly handsome, but dontcha think you’ve been gawking at yourself just a tiny bit too long there?” Chris asked from where he’d sat up on the bed, only to receive a bunch of his rumpled clothes thrown at his face.

“Just get dressed.” Storming from the room Jett was followed by Chris’s good natured laughter. Jett was still steaming as he entered the kitchen and it didn’t help when he had to all but swim through the sea of beer bottles to get to the fridge.   
During his journey through the kitchen Jett noticed off in the corner his thongs were sticking out from under a few beer bottles and in the same glance he saw a scorpion scuttling over the floor. Perhaps having shoes on would be a good idea, he didn’t need to add a bug sting to his growing list of headache material.  
When he opened it there was nothing in there but a few uncooked sausages and what Jett could only assume was once some kind of left overs.

“Sausage sangers again I guess.” Smiling slightly Jett opted to trust the sausages over the mystery left overs. When he tried to start the stove up he found the damn thing was broken, he would have liked to be surprised but frankly he just wasn’t. So instead he threw them onto the small portable BBQ that he’d gotten Chris for Christmas some years back. It was gathering rust and obviously hadn’t been cleaned once in the past year but that didn’t bother Jett.

Carelessly scrapping off the larger gatherings of burnt fat and dust he started it up and threw on the sausages. While they began to sizzle and pop Jett reached over to the mini fridge, planning to grab himself a beer, it might have been morning but he didn’t have any other plans for the day other than to make sure that Chris did his job and he always did do that better when numbed to the frustration his brother caused him.

His hand was stopped quite suddenly however when he saw a small sticky note clinging to the door. Ripping it off Jett frowned as he recognised the writing, it was from Zea. That writing couldn’t have belonged to anybody else and it did make Jett frown when he thought about Chris’s scrawled pencil scratchings. He could take a tip or two from Zea, in more than just hand writing.

“Why didn’t he just call?” Jett sighed thinking about their brother Toby as he snatched up a beer with his free hand. He’d probably left the note there after dropping Chris back off once he got kicked out of America’s place the night before.  
New Zealand was their closest neighbour in both physical distance and friendship. Why it had often been thought that New Zealand should just join with them or already had.

It had caused their brother some grief explaining that he was not part of them to the youngsters in Australia who just assumed that they were one with New Zealand and some adults as well. The Australian brothers had found it endlessly amusing and as a result Zea hadn’t spoken to either of them for a while.

Reading the note while taking a swig of the beer Australia expected something bland and uninteresting as all the messages usually were, politics and all that never being the Australian brothers strong point…but.

“Oh bloody hell!” Spitting out his beer Jett grabbed hold of the note with both hands, almost tearing it with the force he applied.

“Oi Bro?” Chris came wandering down stairs having heard the shouting. Looking at his brother Chris couldn’t help but frown in that sleepy way of his. Jett was madly rushing around cooking and kicking bottles out of his way and out of sight. For a few seconds Chris stood motionless on the bottom step, just watching his brother’s frenzy of movement as it slowly dawned on him, Jett only acted with way for a few reasons after all.

“Hmm...” Chris’s frown deepened and finally he said. “We have a world meeting don’t we…?”

“You bloody well do! You god damned moron, why didn’t you tell me?” Jett couldn’t be Chris; he couldn’t always be laid back without a care in the world. He had a temper and it was certainly being tested this morning.

“I guess I forgot.” Chris smiled with a shrug, getting a sharp glare from his older brother. In the next second a sausage sanger was jammed into his mouth, resulting in some muffled, incoherent words coming from around the greasy breakfast.

“Shut up and eat it. Zea is going to be here any minute to pick you up. I swear…” His words broke off into angry growls and grumbles, unaware of his brother’s following gaze as he worked fervently. It wasn’t until Chris put his hand on Jett’s head that he paused in his ranting for a just a second. His brother smiled around the sanger while petting Jett.

“Donmh worry bout ehn, mate!” Jett translated that fairly quickly in his head. ‘Don’t worry ‘bout it, mate.’ Jett envied his little brother’s easy going attitude and wondered why he hadn’t been gifted with it; they were both Australia after all.  Kind of…

Chris’s hand remained on his head, ruffling his hair slightly, causing the two strands of blonde hair to flick up and stand straight. But still neither of them moved, Chris seemed to realise he’d made a mistake when he looked at his brother’s distant eyes. Jett stared down towards the ground, watching as a lizard scuttled over his bare foot but all he could see was the polished floors from a home he’d once belonged in.

“Bro…” Chris opened his mouth to say something but just then there was a rapid rapping at the door. Jett snapped out of it, knocking away his brother’s hand and hastily clawing the two freed strands back down.  
“I got it.” Chris went to answer the door while Jett worked on hiding his hair.

“G’day Zea!” Chris was greeting their brother with the usual happy gush of words, Jett worked on tuning them out while eating his own breakfast. Not long after that Chris’s spiel came to an end and Jett walked into the hallway, planning on seeing his two brothers off. It was oddly quiet when he got the hallway, even Chris’s cheerful words had stopped.

“Mornin’ Zea.” Jett greeted New Zealand with a single wave of his hand before turning to Chris. “Idiot, go and get your shirt on. You got to go already.” Realising he still wasn’t even out of his sleep ware Chris smiled and bounded on upstairs leaving Zea and Jett to themselves.

“You could have called. “ Jett said with an agitated sigh.

“I tried but you two sleep so deeply.” Zea was a tiny little nation. He appeared almost as a girl at times and Jett had seen the bloody frog trying for a taste too many times. Zea had a sweet, somewhat dazed, look about him most of the time and with features so soft and hair so lovely it was easy to see why he was mistaken for a female.

His fair brother was still holding onto his pet Sheep and Jett was glad that the evil Koala they had was not present, he didn’t like the thought of what might happen if those two were left alone together. Really that koala was Satan in disguise he was sure and Australia sure was hot enough to house Satan comfortably.

“Ah, sorry ‘bout that.” Jett apologised flippantly while rubbing at the back of his neck. Zea tugged at his black cuffs, clearly picky about how he looked at the world gathering. It made the Australia almost self-conscious when looking at New Zealand. His uniform was a beautiful shade of red and their uniform was all browns. If Australia had not been so fond of their clothes and comfort they would have shown off too, but Zea looked a bit uncomfortable at times, while Jett and Chris were never put in discomfort by their uniform.

“So I left the note the one place I knew you’d go.” The Australian felt somewhat embarrassed knowing he’d put the note on their supply of alcohol, cruel but fair and accurate.

“Ah….right.” Jett tried not to get upset about it and instead changed the topic. “I’ll take care of the work here so there’s no need to rush him back home either. He’d only distract me. Take him out drinking or something.”

Zea’s face changed to an expression of apprehension, almost as if he had something to say in response that he didn’t want to voice just yet. Before Jett could ask about it Zea looked up towards the top of the stairs and sure enough Christian was ready, his uniform on and just as wrinkled as Jett had expected. The Satan koala clinging to his back as though it were a permanent addition to his uniform and the broad brimmed hat dangling from a string around his neck. The only thing out of the ordinary was the lack of his goofy, big ass grin. He’d heard them talking and spoke for Zea, mostly.

“Actually mate…” Australia began uncertainly while descending down the stairs. He was scratching at his band-aid again, that action alone letting Jett know he was not going to be pleased to hear this.   
“We’ll, Zea help me out with this…” Zea stood back and gave a single solitary shake of his head; he wasn’t bailing Chris out this time.

Sighing Chris straightened up once off the stairs and standing in front of his brother and said in a direct manner.   
“They want us all at the world meeting today, bro. That’s you too.” Immediately Jett’s mood and face darkened to dangerous levels. Zea took another step back and Christian raised his hands in defence, laughing nervously.

“No. No friggin’ way! I’m not going to that place. _Forget it_.” Jett growled, his hand going down towards his machete, he hadn’t even registered the motion until his brother’s hands came up in a defensive flinch towards his head. Chris has tasted the blow of the blade in the past and even if he didn’t consciously know it, his body certainly remembered it.

Jett stopped dead, realising he’d been moving as if he might hurt his brother. He wasn’t going to, no he was just moving out of habit that was all! Just habit, nothing else, _nothing else_ …

“Bro.” Chris frowned walking towards Jett. “He..-- They’ve requested we both go.” Jett didn’t miss the unintentional ‘he’, the slip only serving to fuel his resistance.

“Why should I go? Why should I give a damn if they want everyone there? It’s not like Prussia will be there so why should I go?” Jett hadn’t meant to say it but they were all thinking it. Jett was not far from what Prussia was, a lost nation that continued to hang around for no real good reason. How he and Prussia continued to exist while other nations faded away no one was quite sure.

“Jett…!” Christian was mortified but thankfully Zea’s soft voice cut across them before Chris could get too worked up over his brother.

“Prussia will be there as well. Everyone is going… Please, we’re already late. You’re _always_ late…” Jett didn’t look like he was going to budge an inch but Zea, in his shrewd little way said. “I suppose I’ll lose the bet to America. He bet you wouldn’t go…”

“That Yankee fuck did _what_?” Jett demanded, pride and fury blinding him to his original fears and reasons for not going. “Oh hell no! Chris!” Christian jumped at his name and then smiled as Jett marched himself right out of the house, non-verbally demanding they follow.

“Ay mate. I got ya.” With that the three of them left Australia’s house. Chris following Jett as he stomped on out, pausing next to Zea to give him a somewhat rough pat on the back. The air left Zea and he coughed violently to try and breathe once again but he knew it was Australia’s way of praising his good thinking.

Once he could breathe and speak properly Zea looked up after the retreating form of Jett and frowned to Chris. “Do you think that we should really allow this?” Christian smiled but there was a kind of strain to the usually so careless expression that worried Zea.

“He can’t avoid big brother forever. I’m sure he can’t hate him forever either. It’s been a long time since their falling out.” The two watched Jett kicking the crap out of their transport, it didn’t seem like anything they owned worked properly.   
“Yeah…he can’t be angry forever right…?”

“Yeah.” Zea gave a single nod of his head before hearing Jett’s furious angry cursing and pounding foot against their transport. If anyone could stay angry forever…

The two let out a sigh in unison.   
Forever wasn’t such a long time for countries.

 

…  
…  
…

 

The gathering was held at England’s place.  
No one told him _that_.

Jett was all but steaming from the ears and fuming from the mouth as he stood in the hallway to the meeting room. It had been furnished nicely for the world meeting sure but the place still reminded him of the old days and despite himself Jett recognised almost everything about it.   
With his arms crossed and one foot wildly tapping away at the ground he came off as terribly intimidating, even Zea and Chris were almost avoiding getting to close for fear his anger would be turned on them.

And they bloody well better be scared.   
They both knew exactly where this meeting was being held and didn’t tell him anything until they were at the damned door. Jett would have turned tail and run if his pride hadn’t been so cripplingly great. So he’d marched himself in there with the dark aura hanging off of him, causing anyone he passed to cringe away.   
He didn’t care, they should be scared of him when he was this close to breaking holes in the expensive walls.

“Uh…hey mate?” Chris tried to speak to his brother, smiling slightly though he could tell he was playing with fire. It wouldn’t be that bad right? How bad could Jett be when compared to grabbing up a croc? Jett turned his burning gaze onto Chris causing the younger nation to recoil with a shaky laugh. He’d take the croc over this any day!

“What?” Jett snapped, seething through his clenched teeth.

“W-Well it’s just that…my hand.” Jett glanced down, not realising he’d been clutching Chris so tightly, the poor hand looked as though it was broken. Jett’s grip eased up, not wanting to deal with a crying Australia any time soon but he didn’t let go. Chris noticed this action and looking up at his brother’s marching form, he couldn’t help but give a small smile.

So Jett really was nervous? Nervous enough to hold onto his hand so desperately? With that in mind Chris held his brother’s hand back as they walked towards the meeting room. What were brothers for if not picking up their drunken brother at three in the morning, giving them a good taunting and letting the other hide their fear to protect pride?   
Well….maybe for picking up some beer too.

“Oh, you guys are here!” Chris smiled as they were greeted by the sound of a kid’s voice.

“Hmpf, you’re late again.” Added on a young girl’s voice.  
Wy and Sealand were too young for the world meetings but even they’d been brought in today, maybe seeing that would calm Jett.

Wendy and Peter were still children but they both seemed to be working toward acceptance just like any other nation and watching their little sister and brother trying so hard to grow up always did lift their spirits. They were a big family after all, it was important to help one another out.

“Where’s Hutt?” Jett asked while the three went about their hellos. Hutt or Hutt River was also part of their family, he was a micronation sure but he’s been staying close to Peter and Wendy, babysitting though they dared not call it that in front of the two kids.

Both Hutt and Wendy were micro-nations within Australia itself so it was only natural that they all stayed close to one another, feeling somewhat split off from the rest of the world with the massive distance between them and everyone else. Australia was always somewhat…well…isolated. Making them almost forgotten to the rest of the world despite their massive size.

“I don’t want Hutt here! We can look after ourselves, we’re not kids.” Wendy complained angrily

“Easy Wendy.” Chris smiled kneeling down to pat the young girl and boy on the head. “You two younin’s need to go and find that silly old Hutt, he’s gone and gotten lost hasn’t he?” Jett had to admit that Chris was good at getting the right response out of kids. “You two go find him and look after things out here okay?”

“Got it!” Peter saluted Australia and grinning Chris saluted back. Giving them a job and a feeling of responsibility would hopefully quell any ill feelings about not being let into the meeting.

While Jett made a point of not joining in the childish antics and greetings he did ruffled both the kids hair on the way in, even someone like him could show his affection sometimes, even if it was rough.  
Zea pushed the doors open and thankfully they were not the centre of attention for coming in late because as per usual things were absolute chaos.

Shouting and general ridiculousness went on in every corner of the room. It was worse than usual, most often the greater powers would argue with one another but it would only be them and then in larger meetings there was more chaos but with their attempts to include the entire world in one room…it was a disaster.

Jett’s judgingly cruel eyes slowly rolled over to Chris who just laughed nervously with a shrug of his shoulders, he couldn’t help it if they were all like children when put together. The meeting room was too loud for anyone to get a good word in, countries all around having broken up into groups of friends and enemies. Attacking one another and arguing over old grievances.  
Countries like Greece were too busy sleeping or keeping their own peace like Japan were also scattered around but they were in the minority.

“Let’s just go sit down.” Jett muttered finally, standing at the door gapping at the chaos wouldn’t get them anywhere. Among the sea of familiar faces it was fairly easy for them to spot the friendly ones. Allies and friends alike were mixed in with less than favourable countries, Jett made a point of steering his brothers away from Turkey.  
Chris would have protested if he knew, he and Turkey had a friendly relationship now but Jett still felt bitter over past clashes and they didn’t mourn their losses every year just for him to get chummy with that country. It didn’t truly matter though because that country was far too busy shouting at the napping Greece.

In the mix of faces both friend and otherwise it was even easier to spot family. Oh yes, how very embarrassingly easy it was. All one had to do was look for the bushy eye brows and they’d no doubt find themselves a Kirkland. As a result the three brothers easily found their respective family.

With Wendy and Peter left outside that only left a few of them. At a glance Jett caught sight of Hong Kong standing off on his own, minding his own business and the rest of the meeting went to hell. The dark haired male had never exactly been the most talkative person in the world, that suited Jett just fine and even though he had been taken back from the British Empire not too long ago he still had those eye brows and was considered family in a small sense.

Not too far off from him there was Cameroon and India, at least keeping out of most of the antics in the messy meeting room. That accounted for a majority of their immediate family there was only one face that took Jett a while to spot.  
Chris noticed it too, they always played spot the family when together and the two of them were far too caught up in it to notice that Toby had vanished from their side, no doubt finding his seat while they hung around.

“Oh hey! Over there.” Chris pointed and sure enough they’d found the last of their family…well maybe family wasn’t the right word in this case, unwilling pet might be a better way of putting it. Seychelles was currently being assaulted by a pervert.

“Crying out loud – it’s that friggin pervert!” Jett cursed seeing Francis once again making his advances on the female, it was exactly like his advances on Canada and just as creepy. Although they’d never guess that France had no real ill intentions – he was simply playing. Jett was completely prepared to get his hands dirty beating the smutty Frenchman’s face in but his body locked up seeing just who had beat him to the punch.

Standing between France and Seychelles was their big brother himself, England.   
It was a familiar sight. France and England standing off, each grabbing hold of the others throat and clothes in an attempt to throttle one another. It made Chris laugh seeing that nothing did change between big brother and France. His laughter stopped when he realised that his brother was still by his side.

Chris noticed the tenseness in his brother’s form. He’d known that his brother would react this way at the sight of the Englishman but…at the same time he’d been optimistic that this time it would be okay. But as his green hues lingered on his brother’s form he noticed the shaking in his clenched hands and the wideness of his own green eyes, he’d left Chris again and gone back to that place that he could never go.

It scared Chris.   
What was it that woke Jett up in the dead of night screaming and on the verge of tears or had him freeze dead at certain times and stare blankly into the air in front of him. And most unsettling, what was it that caused Chris to be so utterly terrified of his own brother at times?  
If he asked, Jett would turn him away and deny it all, he’d tried so many times to pry answers from him but all he knew came from England and their big brother was also fairly tight lipped on the matter.

“It’s taken care of, let’s just sit down.” Jett recovered from whatever dark place his mind went to when he left Chris behind, but even as they did turn to find their seats there was another disturbance.

“In coming potato bastard!” The shout came from the other side of the room and it was the only warning the two got. Thankfully they were Australia and the two were very well accustomed to dodging rough cricket balls and almost anything else that could be tossed to be frank.

Ducking out of the way as what looked like a tomato went flying past Jett cursed furiously as yet another one came shooting past. After the second yet another two followed, causing the brothers some distress to keep from being hit.   
Jett didn’t remember anyone that would be throwing tomatoes at them but when he looked towards where the projectiles had landed it immediately cleared up his confusion.

Standing on the other side of Chris and himself, arms crossed and shoulders shaking with barely controlled fury was Germany. The blonde’s uniform now stained with blood like splatters, though the darkness of the clothes did make it harder to see. Apparently the tomatoes had been meant for him and had found their mark. Australia knew Germany to be rather quick on his feet but with the two of them as a cover he probably didn’t realise he was the target until he was hit.

By his brother’s side Prussia was laughing in his usual string of ‘Keseseses~’, the sound never failing to agitate Jett. Chris on the other hand found the whole ordeal about as funny as the albino bastard. Laughing that loud and good natured laugh Chris clung onto his big brother’s shoulder as though the force of his amusement might bring him to the ground if he were to stop holding on.   
Jett felt about as unamused as one could get, or at least that was what he acted like and only if paying close attention could anyone notice the slight fighting to keep a smile from his stony face. Even though he hid it well both the Australian brothers had a similar sense of humour.

“Take that you potato faced bastard!” The source of the flying fruit spoke up finally. Romano stood with his hand pointing out at Germany, shouting profanities at him while savouring his victory. By his side Italy clung onto his arm, trying desperately to keep his big brother from causing more trouble.

“B-Big brother…” Italy whined, mortified by his brother’s attitude. “You can’t do that to Germany…” Pleading with his brother seemed to get him nowhere but still he clung on tight.

“Let go of me! Get off of me you damn…!” Romano was struggling against his little brother, the two of them seeming almost the same I strength as their little brotherly war continued. Jett, who had not been around many of these countries in something like a few hundred years, was taken aback by the two.   
He’d expected to see the frog and Brit fight, he’d known that America would be shouting loudly but he’d never seen the two Italian brothers together before. Chris was the one that attended all the meetings not him.

“Are they always this way?” Jett asked once Chris had managed to bring his hysteria under control. Still draped over his big brother’s shoulder with an easy going smile while he enjoyed the show before him, even if he’d been the one hit with those tomatoes he still would have been smiling.  
Some found Chris’s laid back nature annoying….Jett could be counted among them.

“Yeah, they’re really always like this.” Chris confirmed while Romano fought to break away from his little brother. “Those Italian brothers couldn’t be more different even though they look so similar.” Chris said it casually but Jett could hear the double meaning behind those casually tossed out words, his fingers coming up to scratch at his scar mindlessly.

“Speaking of opposites…” Both pairs of green hues turned towards the victim of the fruit assault. “Those two don’t even have their looks in common, ay?”

The two Germans stood by themselves, one having to scrape the red from his uniform with angry growls and the other was still laughing shamelessly while patting his little brother’s shoulder in a jeering manner.

“Ah West. If you were as awesome as the awesome me you wouldn’t have been hit! Keseses~” Jett stared at the smaller of the two nations, Prussia.   
The longer he stared the more confused he became, Prussia had long since been dissolved as a true nation, in fact it was a highly debated topic among the current nations as to where Prussia’s place was now days.   
For a while it seemed that he might vanish like his own father before him and the mighty Roman Empire. Yet here he stood, in all is aggravating glory, gloating at his younger brother who was very much still a strong nation.

Red eyes caught the staring green ones, just for a brief moment the two lost nations looked at one another and Jett did not shy away. He was not ashamed of his staring and instead the two held the look for what felt like an eternity before Prussia’s mouth twisted up in a smile that appeared, at least to Jett, a little bit mournful. The expression was gone as soon as it arrived however and the albino returned to his chittering at his brother.

Jett continued to wonder why it was that Prussia had survived and he began to wonder if perhaps he’d ask one day. Just out of interest of course! Jett wasn’t afraid of vanishing…yeah, there was no way he’d vanish. To take a page from Prussia’s book, he was simply too awesome to fade out! Just thinking that made him feel silly, but perhaps if he convinced himself of that, he really wouldn’t have anything to fear.

“Yo, what happened?” Jett’s mood immediately darkened hearing that obnoxious voice. Sure enough the American had appeared. “Wow, dude! You look all bloody, Haha!” America’s voice was only louder when he laughed. “You see that? So cool!” America turned to Chris and the two grinned at one another, whatever fight they had the night before being forgotten as they high-fived.

“Oh?” Alfred looked past Chris to Jett, not bothering to hide his surprise at seeing the stony nation. “No way! He actually showed.” Alfred laughed pointing at Jett without a shred of embarrassment and Jett felt eyes falling on him. The American’s voice was too damn loud and he was drawing attention that Jett didn’t want.

Alfred’s happy laughter was cut short at the sound of knuckles being cracked. Looking up he saw the Aussie nation standing over him, eyes shining with malice as a dark aura seemed to seep from his very being. He looked too much like Russia for America’s comfort.

“Heard you been making bets there Mate.” The colour bleed from Alfred’s face as he backed up shaking his hands and head quickly.

“What me? No way! Not a chance, aha…ahaha! Come on dude…quit looking at me like that. H-Hey help me out here Chris!” Chris merely shrugged his shoulders, Alfred had made the bet it had nothing to do with him. Chris sat back in his seat next to Toby and watched as the two nations went at it. In fact as time passed the audience for their rough housing only grew in its numbers.

“Ayiiii!!!”

Alfred would be lucky if he got out of this without Florida getting flogged.

 

…  
…  
...

 

“Say uncle you bloody yankee!” Jett demanded with a grunt, feeling a blow to his chest after his demand.

“Hero’s don’t lose!” Alfred declared before getting his faced slammed flat into the floor. The two of them were caught between heavy panting and laughing, this kind of rough play was probably a lingering effect of their being brothers in childhood. Some things simply didn’t change with age.

“I always pinned you when we were kids! Give it up fatty.”

“Hey! I’m not fat, I’m well nourished.”

“There is nothing nourishing about those heart attack burgers you scoff down.”

“How long are they going to keep going at it?” Prussia leant over from his seat, around his brother’s back and the empty chair between him and the seated Australian, managing to balance his chair on one leg. Chris simply shrugged with a shake of his head.

“Hours, days, years. They’re brothers after all.” Prussia and Chris watched as the two swapped between who had the upper hand and who was at a loss. America was a strong nation but Australia did have its more wild side and so the two were matching up fairly well.

“Yo West!” Prussia looked over at Germany, the serious nation still scrubbing at his uniform, not happy until it was once again spotless. “Why don’t we rough house like that? We’re bruders after all!” Germany took one look at his big brother before going back to his cleaning, he was not going to entertain that with an answer.

“You’re so unawesome…” Prussia grumbled before leaning over towards the Australian again. “Say, want to bet on who wins?”

“Betting is what started this.” Chris reasoned before turning back to Prussia with a wide smile. “How much you willing to bet against my big bro?”

“Keses. Let’s see here…” The Prussian and Australian’s bet was called off early however as a figure stormed past their chairs. Chris made the face of a child in hot water and turned away to hide his face from the passing nation.

“Oh Christ. Here we go…”

“If you’re quite done throttling your brother!” Alfred and Jett’s scuffle was finally called to a stop by a familiar voice. Both American and Australian looked up to see the British Empire standing over them. Hands on his hips and a glare in his gaze as he looked down on the two children.

Jett still had Alfred’s face pressed to the floor and Alfred had a hold of Jett’s hair but it seemed that neither was quite willing to let go just yet. Of course once Arthur intervened some of the fun of their fight bled away. Jett’s smile was history and a dark silence came over him as he released America without a fuss.

“You’re such a wet blanket Iggy.” Alfred complained while dusting himself off, oblivious to Jett’s change in mood. “We’re just having fun, don’t have to be so uptight all the time.”

The Englishman didn’t look impressed and his arms crossed over his chest, his bushy eye brows knitted together tightly.  
“We’re in a meeting; of course I should have known you kids were not mature enough for it.” England sighed wearily as though he could not believe his children were so unruly.

“Hey! I’m not a kid anymore England!” While America and England began their usual routine Jett took his chance to escape. He couldn’t say a word to that nation or he was sure his control would break and things would become ugly. Quickly he made his way over to his brother and sat down in silence.

Chris glanced over at Jett and smiled his usual grin, glad to see that his brother had made it out without too much more of a scene. Though it seemed that the rest of the meeting had calmed enough for some logical process and order to be found and as always it was the same figures that took control.  
Germany, having successfully removed the tomato stains from his clothes cleared his throat while standing with papers in hand.  With him seemingly ready to begin the meeting might just follow the proper procedure.

“Ja…I’ll do the briefing seeing as no one else seems ready to.” Icy blue eyes slipped over towards the Australian that held a heavy sulking aura. Those cold calculating eyes pausing on Jett’s form for just a moment before slipping over onto England and America, somewhere in the German’s mind something was being formulated. Perhaps it was not logical, perhaps it was not kind but Germany was not about to brush the thought off. Nations had very long memories after all.

Storing it safely in the back of his mind Germany called the meeting to order, the feat taking marginally longer than usual due to the extra participants in the room.   
Nations he had not seen a great many years all lay seated somewhere in the room and Germany took a great deal of pride in the fact that not only had they all come together but no new wars had been started in the time they sat together.   
Excellent, excellent – now if only that streak of good fortune could, they’d all be set.

 

…  
…  
…

 

Jett remembered now.  
He remembered just how agonisingly _boring_ this whole world meeting nonsense was.   
The German’s voice was powerful and did at least hold Jett’s focus enough for him to forget about the fact that he had been sulking earlier. As he listened uninterestedly to Germany speak and then give others their chance to speak up Jett couldn’t help but take notice of a few other faces scattered around he’d not noted before.

What amused him the most was a glance at Russia and China.   
The poor Asian nation looked so uncomfortable next to the smiling giant, Jett almost felt bad for him and he certainly did not envy him. During his study of China and Russia he also noticed something strange about the place that Russia sat, was that terrifying man floating by any chance? Jett didn’t even want to consider that possibility.

After some time and a great deal of focus and squinting Jett was able to make out the form of someone sitting by America, it had to be Canada. At the thought the figure that had almost been invisible before slowly fleshed out into the quiet little nation.  
Jett had to work to not laugh out loud when he saw that Russia was currently sitting on poor little Mattie.   
He and the Canadian nation did not mix much as children, his wild nature having only served to scare little Matthew but they had gotten along just fine so perhaps he’d lend Canada a hand after the meeting – If he did not forget him that was.

As the meeting slowly dragged on by Jett noticed that some more of his…extended family had arrived. Standing off in the back of the meeting room the Australian was shocked to see the small gathering of bushy eye-browed males.  
A lit cigarette and red hair identified Scotland and with him stood his brothers, Ireland and Wales.

Jett could hardly believe his eyes, those were his older brothers…his _much_ older brothers. He’d only met them on very rare occasions as a child and always did remember the discomfort they brought with them. Scotland in particular he’d been taught to be wary of as a child fairly early on.

The Scotsman’s eyes caught Jett’s own and he tensed up, not sure what his older brother would think when looking at him. Would he think anything at all? Would he even vaguely remember him?  
Oh, he remembered Jett alright.  
Without any hint of nervousness Allistor’s mouth curled into a smirk around his cigarette and he gave a single careless wave of his hand towards Jett. Did that mean he approved of Jett?  He couldn’t help but hope so, he didn’t fancy getting on that guy’s bad side any time soon. However he was fairly sure that hand wave was to see if he’d jump out of his skin like Iggy would have. Jett did not, so he guessed that meant he passed.

He turned away fairly quickly after that and let the meeting pass him by. He showed his face like they’d asked now they should let him return to his peaceful little existence back home without a fight. They’d better let him be or so help him he’d show up with some of their wildlife next time.  
Wouldn’t be the first time Chris had accidently brought in some type of snake or spider and scared the pants off most other nations.

Yet if this was all that happened at the meeting Jett would be pleased. He just wished for it to end and as if someone far above was smiling down on him it did. Well, kind of.

“The meeting is now on break, please feel free to have some refreshments or fresh air if you feel the need.” Arthur dismissed them for a break and like a child allowed to leave the dinner table – Chris was gone.   
Rushing outside as fast as his legs would allow. Jett already knew he’d probably be late coming back and covered in mud when he did. Sighing with a faint smile he stood from his own seat, thinking that stretching his legs would do him some good.

As he walked down the beautifully polished floors Jett intended to simply find a balcony on the third floor and stay there for a few minutes for some air. However his steps slowed to a stop when he passed a familiar room. He knew he shouldn’t’, he knew he should have walked on without thinking about it but he would not be coming back to this place ever again if he had his way….so a quick peek wouldn’t hurt him.

Backing up slowly Jett stopped by a familiar wooden door. Slowly he reached out and pressed his palm flat against its smooth surface. Quickly he retracted the hand at the sound of someone coming closer, he turned hastily to face whoever it was – trying to act as though he hadn’t been planning on doing some exploring of the past.  
The steady and constant footfalls ended up belonging to none other than the German who had been all but running the meeting. Germany didn’t seem aware of Jett at first as he murmured something quietly to himself, something about a damned Italian.  
When he did notice Jett he gave a short look of surprise before straightening up. What… did he want to talk?

“Excuse me but you are Australia, are you not?” It was Jett’s turn to be surprised, he had not expected the German to really stop and speak with him, he didn’t strike Jett as the chatty type.

“Yeah, that’s me. But call me Jett, not Australia.” He couldn’t have himself being called Australia or it’d get confusing between him and Chris. Germany looked uncomfortable, as though moving to a true name basis was a tad too intimate for him. Jett had heard somewhere that Germans were very professional.

“Ja. Please excuse my rudeness but I’d like to ask you a question or two. If you have the time.” Germany waited patiently for his reply and Jett became instantly wary of him.

“Guess that’d be okay.” He allowed slowly. “But if it’s about my brother I’d rather not answer. Sure, he is my brother but I’m not his baby sitter.” A look of understanding and grievance came over the German’s face and Jett could all but see him picturing his own troublesome brother in his mind.

“Of course.” Wiping that look off of his face Germany returned to business and began his questions. “You’ll have to be forgiving with me, I’m afraid I don’t know too much about you or your brother. We’ve rarely crossed paths and seeing as our bosses are on friendly terms I thought it would be best for me to learn. Ignorance isn’t acceptable for a nation. Australia…” There was a brief pause as Germany rethought that.   
“Ahem, Jett. I’ve been meaning to ask about your relations to America and England. You are an English colony, ja?”

Jett’s form tensed up but he did not become quiet.   
He wore his scar on display for the purpose of reminding people who he was and how he got there and it was certainly no secret what transpired between he and England. He had no excuse at the ready or believable reason to deny the German the information he required.

“Was.” He corrected quickly. “No one calls us an English colony anymore. It’s a long story.” Jett said evasively, perhaps Germany would give up if he thought it was not worth the trouble, much to Jett’s dismay this was not the case.

“I see. In that case shall we take a seat outside? We have a great deal of time before the meeting resumes.” Jett groaned internally and Germany noticed the hesitation.

“If you are worried about getting back on time, I’d be more than happy to organise a meeting for later…?” He began to offer but Jett was quick to shake his head, no. Absolutely not! If they organised a meeting he’d only have to drag himself out another day. He was here now might as well get it over with.

“Now is fine.” Jett agreed and the two walked together down the hall to the balcony that had been Jett’s original goal – however it was on the first floor of the building rather than the third. Once outside he was pleased to find that for once the overcast weather seemed to have broken. There was a bit of sun so at least it would not be an unpleasant time to talk.

Each nation took a seat around a small outdoor tea table and as professional as ever Germany waited quietly for Jett to begin. Jett took another glance at the great nation, he was stiff with good posture and no nonsense, and there’d be nothing but facts with him so at least he’d not have to descend into a sob story.

“I’ll try to keep this brief and informative. I’ll start at the beginning as well.” Jett declared nonchalantly even though his hands were shaking under the table.  
“I grew up under England’s care…..”

 

…  
… ( _Flash back. Roughly 1770_.)  
…

 

“Now hold still.” The young boy squirmed slightly under the large hands that tried their best to help him into stiff clothes.  
“Oi, I said hold still lad.” The voice of the older male gentle chided a adolescent Jett. Looking up with a pout on his face the boy huffed.

“But big brother! These clothes are all stiff.” He complained, not liking the formal attire that his big brother England had picked out for him. “How am I meant to run and jump in this?”

“A gentleman does not run and jump about like a monkey.” England chuckled at the young boys complaints. “You are growing close to the age you’ll have to be a gentleman to. Just like your brothers Alfred and Matthew. You wouldn’t want them surpassing you now would you Jack?”

The child version of Jett – at the time called Jack – shook his head furiously; the thought of America beating him was terrifying. At his response England smiled and pat his little brother’s head gently, the two strands of upward sticking hair slipping past the gaps in his fingers.

“There’s a good lad. Come Jack, we have to get you dressed properly. We should not keep them waiting.” The child did not complain anymore as he watched England work in the mirror. Looking at his face that in its youth lacked the scar across his nose Jack reached up to tug on his blonde hair uncertainly. It had been getting rather long as of late, England noticed it as well and again ruffled his hair.

“We’ll clean up that mop of yours as well. Wouldn’t want you looking like frog face.” Jack had remembered wondering if there really was a man that had a frog for a face but had been too unsure to ask his older brother for fear of being embarrassed if he was wrong.

The British nation finished tidying his little brother up, dressing him appropriately while vowing not to let the wild little boy go and dig up and creatures in the dirt that day. He’d not be ruining these clothes as well.   
With the last few adjustments Arthur sat back on his knees and looked at the excited little boy before him with a warm smile.

“Come, you’re ready. Let’s go.” England held his hand out to little Jack who smiled back as he took it, following his big brother through the door and into the outside world that he’d never been able to truly see from the safety of his brother’s care.

The world was great and wide, it was so huge and it made Jack feel so tiny.  It felt _good_.   
The world was just waiting to be explored; just waiting to be discovered and his brother had promised him a great discovery had just been made. Jack could hardly contain himself as he followed quickly after England.

However as they walked down the streets Jack stuck close to England’s leg, seeing things he didn’t like as they walked. There was filth, there was crying and a sense of doom that Jack could not understand at that young age. He was so small but even then as the great British Empire walked ahead of him he found himself loitering a bit behind, captivated in the most sickening of ways by what he saw.   
People as thin as rakes and others in the filthy streets begging, was this what he didn’t see inside the walls of his big brother’s care?

“Jack.” He turned when England called and all doubt was washed away at the sight of his brother’s warm smile and waiting hand. “Hurry along now, this is sure to be a great day for us.” Complying happily Jack ran to catch up with England, forgetting the pain he saw behind him.

Ahh, the land truly was vast and so full of things to be discovered and what a discovery his big brother had unearthed!  
A new land, a land way down under where they thought there only to be open sea! A whole new world that could be explored for them, Jack was ecstatic; this was proof, proof that the world truly did hold untold marvels!

While Arthur spoke with his boss a smile was present on his face. Sitting quietly at the tea table the three child nations listened to their big brother talk before whispering among themselves.

“Big brother England found a new land?” America whispered, his excitement a near match to Jack’s.

“They say it’s huge!” Jack exclaimed in a hushed tone, his arms stretching out far to emphasise his point. “Heard that it’s full of danger, that it is a harsh land. Sounds good for an adventure.”

“N-No way…” Little Canada squeaked, holding his bear close to his chest. “I don’t want to go somewhere scary…”

“Don’t worry Mattie. Me, the hero, will protect you from the monsters on the island.” America crowed proudly while banging his fist on his chest.

“Do you really think there’d be monsters?” Jack asked curiously, thinking back to what the explorers had said. Creatures that climbed up in trees and giant beasts on two legs that could hold smaller ones in their stomach. They sure sounded like monsters.

“We’ll go explore together. You, me and Mattie will go and conquer that land!” America declared.

“Ya!” Jack agreed, the two jumping up on the cushioned seats with their battle cry and fists held high and in Jack’s little hand his adventures stick was tightly clutched. The two broke out in cheerful laughter, brothers that shared a similar sense of adventure were often a handful but at the very least they were happy.

“Boys!” England’s scolding tone cut through the air and the pair quickly sat, hands in their laps with barely contained giggles.   
“What have I told you about that unruly behaviour? Standing on the seats like animals, really I’ve taught you better…ah? Jack what are you holding there?”

Jack scurried to hide his adventure’s stick but he’d been caught out by England who was faster still and snatched up the stick from his little hands.

“Jack what have I told you about brining weapons indoors. Look you’ve made the seat dirty and your new clothes to!” England groaned in dismay. America snickered through Jack’s whole scolding while Matthew worked on making himself invisible behind his big brother.

“Why can you never just do as you’re told lad…?” Arthur finally sighed in exhaustion. Jack on the other hand just fiddled with his fingers while pouting quietly, giving a little sniffle after his scolding had finished. England paused seeing the boy working to be brave and not cry, a small smile coming onto his face as he sat down next to Jack.

“Alright, that’s just about enough of that.” He murmured soothingly to Jack while motioning for America and Canada to sit with him.   
“I have stories to tell you of the new found world. Come I’ll tell you tale of the creatures that live there.” All three young nations scurried over to their big brother to listen to what stories he’d have to tell them of their new world.

And Jack dreamed of the land that would become his own nation, the very special gift that would be given to him by his beloved big brother.

 

…  
… ( _Back to Present Time.)_  
…

 

“You were not found with your island nation?” Germany’s surprised tone cut across Jett who nodded carelessly as he picked at his nails.

“Well you see when they discovered my nation I was still under England’s roof. It had not yet been colonised by England so I was not there just yet. Would you like me to continue or should we stop here for now?” Jett offered but Germany gave him the sign to continue after checking his watch, they still had the time.

And so Jett prepared to continue, thinking to just what happened next after the discovery of his home. However that was where he began to feel more uncomfortable. What came next in his story…was where perhaps the facts lead more into his personal pains; he should cut them out entierly.

“After that it was almost a whole decade before I travelled to the newly found land down under.” He spoke curtly, not giving Germany the detail he truly deserved. “We came on a fleet of eleven ships and our colonisation began.” Germany was looking at him strangely, as though he was not pleased with the information that he was getting from Jett.

Just as Germany opened his mouth to say something a familiar head popped up over the railing.

“Whatcha up to?” Germany all but jumped out of his skin hearing the voice that came seemingly out of nowhere and looked around towards the door like any normal person would. Jett on the other hand just rolled his eyes, all to use too his brother’s surprise appearances.   
Chris causally sat with his arms crossed on the balcony railing and his ass seated on a tree branch just under it. His face was smeared with dirt and his diggers uniform a mess, just as Jett predicted.

“Nothing important.” With that he quickly stood from his seat, the sound of the chair legs scrapping across the ground assaulting all their ears but he paid it no mind. Not wanting to admit to what they’d been discussing.   
“We’ll continue this another time if you want Germany.” With that Jett escaped from the other nation and his brother, leaving Germany very confused and Chris frowning.

“Ahh, so it was _that_ huh?” Chris murmured knowingly while swinging himself up onto the balcony ledge to sit while pulling bits of twig out of his clothes and hair.

“You know what we were discussing?” Germany inquired with a lofted brow, having recovered from the shock of seeing the wild nation.

“You bet. He’s my big bro, I know all his little moods and that escape he just pulled wasn’t all that smooth, ya know?” Chris grinned at the German. “If ya really whana know I can fill you in on the stuff he won’t. Seeing as you’re interested and he was freely talking. Though you’ll have to be forgivin’ with me. My memories not what it once was.”

Germany eyed the happily grinning nation with caution. “Your memory? Surely you’re not old enough to be forgetting…?”

“Ahh, well ya see it’s not that I’m old or anything. But I can’t remember any of my history after a certain point. Though as Jett’s brother he filled me in about his history so I can still help you out with that part.” Chris’s smile did fade slightly. “But he won’t tell me a thing about myself so I can only give you so much. It’s a bit of a touchy subject for him.”

“That should be acceptable. Please…” Germany gestured to the seat opposite him but Chris declined, opting to stay on the balcony so he could kick his legs and swing back and forth, unintentionally making the German nervous that he may fall and lose more memories.  
“Could you please tell me a bit more about his relationship to England?” Chris looked surprised at that request though Germany did not look up to meet his eyes.

“As he was speaking I couldn’t help but notice he seemed to remember England fondly and seeing how he responds to your brother now that does not seem to be the case any longer. More importantly when he gave me the last bit of information his attitude changed completely, I felt as though I was not hearing all there was to hear.” Germany explained simply.   
“I merely wish to understand all I can about this.”

“Well let’s see here…” Chris mused while swinging back on the railing. “If you want to know that as well then I’ll have to go back a tad bit further.”

 

…  
…( _Flash Back- Roughly 1775-1783_ )  
…

 

This was not what Jack had expected, not at all.

Standing opposite him in the hallway was his big brother, both he and America had grown again but this time America really had surpassed Jett.  
America was an adult…when did that happen?

“Bro…” America had used a quiet tone, something that did not sit well with Jack, knowing perfectly well that a soft tone did not suit his big brother in the slightest.

“No, shut up!” Jack shouted back at him, throwing his arm out to his side furiously – as if he could physically toss away America’s words. He was not an adult, not yet. Jack stood as young teen against his fully grown big brother.

“Don’t speak like that America! What are you saying? This isn’t like you at all, stop making that serious face and come out side with me. We’ll go and play heroes again, just like you always want to.” Jack offered, sure that his brother would return to normal, he’d smile and shout something stupid…surely he would. This was all some stupid prank of his or something – he couldn’t be serious right now.

America’s face did not lift, the serious expression did not fade and Jack’s heart began to twist painfully in his chest, what was happening here? This was wrong…all of this was just wrong! Where was the happy smiling brother that Jett had grown up knowing, and who was the sullen adult that stood in front of him now? Why was this happening?

“C-Come on now. This…This time I’ll even let you take all the glory. I-I’ll even be the damsel if you want so please…stop this.” Jack reached out, grabbing hold of his brother’s clothes.

Even his clothes were wrong. They were not the messy attire that made their big brother scold them on the importance of dressing like gentleman, nor was it the suit that said elder brother had forced on him.  
No it was a uniform…and it was the wrong colour. He was wearing blue, why was this idiot wearing _blue?_  
They wore red uniforms! Not blue, never blue!

“Little brother…” America slowly reached up to grab hold of the smaller hands that desperately clung to him and remove them gently. Jack could feel it, angry tears beginning to appear in his eyes, this had to be a lie.  
There was no way America was betraying England.

America smiled sadly down at his little brother, reaching out to pat his head.   
“Come with me Jack. We can go together.” Jack had backed away from America at those words, slowly shaking his head as the tears freed themselves and slowly travelled down his face. America watched him miserably and his hand slowly lowered, both his littler brothers had refused to go with him…it hurt but he’d been prepared for this.

“I have to do this, for my freedom. One day you’ll see Jack.” Alfred promised quietly.

“You’re wrong!” Alfred had flinched back at his little brother’s shouting voice. “I’ll never betray big brother like you have!”

Staring at the youthful tear stained face Alfred could feel something like regret tugging in his chest but he knew he could not stop. Instead he smiled, a small, pitiful smile and walked past his brother’s shaking form. His poor little brother could not stop him, he had not yet grown up enough to even try.  
As America passed him by he murmured soft words to Jack that struck him straight through his core.

“Go your own way.”

Those words shattered Jack and as his heart travelled up into his throat, suffocating him and strangling any words he might have tried to speak. His big brother turned away from them all and walked right out those doors.   
Their big brother had left them and from the room that America had come running out of before bumping into Jack…there could be heard the sound of shattering of glass and curses of a broken man.

It hadn’t been long after that there was a final bloody scene in the rain…

…  
…

“All I want is my freedom!” The shout came over the sound of rain beating against the muddy ground, clear for all to hear. America stood opposite his former big brother, gun raised towards the other as he took a final stand for his independence.

They’d been fighting, not just England and America…but Canada and Jack as well. They’d all faced their brother, they’d all failed and they’d all been torn apart by the betrayal.   
Jack had held Matthew in his arms after a fight with America had been lost; he’d tried to stop his bleeding and tried even more hopelessly to stop his brother’s tears. But he’d been crying too…they were all crying, all but England.

Throughout their war against their rebelling brother never had the great empire cried, never did he allow himself to fall so low but now it seemed as though even his internal efforts were not enough.   
England stood alone on the dreadful day, armed with a single gun against America’s forces. Jack could not help him and neither could Matthew, they’d already fallen and now with Matthew still in Jack’s arms their big brother stood ahead of them at the front of the battle with the last of his strength.

“I’m not longer a child, nor your little brother. From now on consider me…independent!” Those words had been the final straw for England. With what power he had left England charged. The blade of his gun catching America’s own as he used it as a shield. The weapon was thrown from America’s hands and landed uselessly in the mud, just out of reach.

Panting and weak England clung to the last of his strength as he aimed the gun at his former little brother.  
“I won’t allow it!” He shouted back at America but even through Jett’s eyes…he could see the tremble in England’s arms and knew it was not exhaustion that had them shaking.

“You idiot! Why can you never follow anything through to the end?” Arthur demanded, not as a country but as a brother.   
America and England, Arthur and Alfred. They were not the same thing…but a country must always serve their people, they are all that they can and ever will be. Arthur had taught all his brothers that lesson over and over again – now he paid the price for that lesson in full.

“Ready! Aim!” The call came out from behind America but the order to fire never came. There was hesitation on the battle field. Jack opened his mouth, willing himself to cry out and stop the madness…but not a sound left him.

However….England’s weapon lowered. America’s eyes widened in surprise as his older brother gave in, but there was no sense of victory to be found as the broken nations spoke.

“There’s no way I can shoot you. I can’t…” The gun was discarded and along with it England’s body fell to its knees. A hand pressed to his face as if to fight back the tears that finally flowed freely and along with them his shaking voice came.

“Why…? Damn it why? It’s not fair…!”

“You know why…” America stood over the fallen nation. From where Jack was kneeling with Matthew behind Arthur, he could not see his older brother’s expression. Would Alfred be smiling? Would he be pleased with their brother’s defeat? Would he turn on them and end their family for good?

No….instead America walked away. His freedom had been won, his fight was over and now he was leaving their side forever.

Jack would never forget that day, he _could_ never forget the day that their sturdy and impossibly powerful big brother had been crippled before his very eyes. He’d never forget that day and he’d never forgive America.  
He’d never _be_ America,

And it seemed….  
England could not forget either.

When they returned home England had not spoken a word, for the longest time he’d been alone in his office. There was not a sound from within its walls and no matter how many times Jack would knock there was never an answer.

For what seemed like years Arthur remained hidden away and outside of his walls their home became worse.  
The soldiers who had fought in the war returned home only to find unemployment soaring, people were growing desperate and things were becoming bleak.

Jack had been afraid, afraid that their nation would fall into complete decay and he’d implored his big brother day after day through the door.  
‘ _Please come out big brother!_ ’ That had been his only wish for so many months spent waiting for Arthur.

Just when Jack was about to give up hope for his brother the door was opened. Filled with relief and hope when he saw his brother standing tall again Jack had run to him and hugged Arthur tight.  
The great British Empire looked as sturdy and strong as he had in Jack’s memory; it was as though he could not feel the loss of America at all anymore.  
He would make it all right, Jack had no doubt.

At least not at first.

The arms that had usually so warmly embraced him in the past did not hold him tight in return. Nor did his hand rest on Jack’s head while gently reprimanding him about being a gentleman.   
Instead Jack got a brief smile and Arthur walked on ahead without him, leaving his little brother staring after him without a clue what he was supposed to do.

As time passed things did seem to be going back to normal, Arthur spent all his time talking with nobles and his boss. He spent most of his days with the higher ups and Jack could only assume that he meant to repair their way of living.

In an effort to show England that he could be relied on for keeping things in order at home Jack made sure to always wear the suits that he hated and to keep things perfectly tidy and clean.   
He no longer brought wild animals home and refrained from building forts within his room or tracking mud into the house. Jack restrained himself for even going out to play in the dirt and mud, he had to prove to England he could help and be a grown up.

He worked to keep all of Arthur’s stress from piling up and at the end of every day he’d rush to the door and wait on the bottom of the stairs for his brother to return home.  
When Arthur would open the door in every day and come out of the rain Jack would jump up from his seat and help Arthur shrug off his heavy jacket. He’d ask Arthur how his day had been and if he could do anything to help him but every day Arthur would do the same thing.

“That’s a good lad.” A quick pat on the head and then he’d leave without a glance at Jack. Back to his study, back to his notes and work.

‘ _Does he not see me?_ ’ Jack had wondered after this went on for quite some time. Holding Arthur’s heavy coat to his chest Jack bit back the tears that threatened to overtake him.

‘ _America is gone…but I’m still here right?’_ Jack’s shoulders had shaken with the effort he put in not to cry. ‘ _Mattie and I…we’re still here!_ ’

More time passed and the pattern continued, Arthur only even said those words to Jack anymore and on some days he wouldn’t even say that. There were no stories being told and no goodnight tuck in from their big brother anymore.   
Then there came a time when even Mattie was no longer with them. Instead his other brother was in the care of. France took care of the timid nation much better than England had and now the house was even emptier. With no brothers to play with in this big old house and England remaining so closed off, Jack didn’t have anyone. Jack became more and more alone and uneasy – he missed his brothers. All of them.

‘ _Go your own way_.’ Jack shook his head as the American’s words came back to him. No, he’d never betray his big brother, even if things got rough he could endure it for Arthur.

Frustrated and anxious Jack decided to try a different approach.  
Jack started actively going out with his brother when he could, sticking close to him but also making sure never to burden him. The teenaged Jack made sure to pay attention to even the most boring of conversations with Arthur and his boss. During these trips outside the safe walls of their home he young man began to notice something somewhat troubling.

As Arthur would talk to the higher ups and officials he outright ignored those that seemed to be suffering the most. When Jack had asked Arthur about this his big brother had merely pat him on the head and reassured him that everything would be okay. Jack wanted to believe his big brother but when he looked over his shoulder, back towards the places that Arthur did not look – he could see it was not alright for some.  
People were struggling, people were starving and some were stealing. Those that stole food to survive were punished harshly and Arthur did not seem to notice. Even when a child was taken away for trying to feed themselves they were supposed to ignore it.

Jack tried to look away as well….but he only became increasingly frustrated.   
This felt wrong to him.

So one day Jack had broken away from his brother’s side, walking to one such child that had tried to make off with some bread. The bread was old, stale and probably growing mould by this point but still she looked as if she was to be punished in full for the crime.  
That didn’t sit quite right with Jack.

He was a growing nation under England’s roof and as such he held some power. He expressed his displeasure with all the charm and grace that Arthur had taught him to use in politics and worked to have the girl freed and forgiven.  
His efforts were rewarded, the child was set free and the food returned. Jack had wanted to give the child more food but he could only do so much and after that he’d ended up being scolded by Arthur for disrupting the peace and allowing a criminal free.

It had only been a little girl though, not a criminal – he tried to tell Arthur as much but it was all in vain.  
His pleas were ignored and Arthur let him go with a warning not to cause any more trouble. That had been the first time England spoke to him in a great deal of months and he’d been thrilled at first…only to find that he was not allowed to help those that seemed to be in pain.  
His joy turned sour quite quickly after that.

Eventually he could take it no longer.  
He could not be ignored and he could not let his brother ignore those that were starving and suffering as well.  
Jack began to act out.

It started with the discard of the suits and then continued on to the resuming of inappropriate language and other ungentlemanly acts. Yet he still waited for his brother to return home every day, thinking perhaps one day Arthur would realise he was dressed poorly and covered in mud and would have a heart attack followed by a sever scolding.  
That day never came.

Jack began to act out more violently in an effort to gain his brother’s attentions. Acting cruelly to those that approached him, picking fights and outright disobeying orders. He even allowed his hair to grow, now it had to be held back in a short pony tail and he thought that the sight alone would remind Arthur enough of France to react.

Finally there were results, but not the type that he had wanted.  
Arthur scolded him but it was done briefly and most of the time through someone else’s tongue or hand.

Jack was reaching breaking point.  
Now he no longer sat on the bottom step and waited for his big brother and he no longer greeted him with a welcoming smile.

The first day that Arthur had come in the door and out of the horrid weather and Jack had not been waiting for him….Arthur had paused.  
His hand instinctively held out for the head he’d usually pat after coming home and his jacket halfway off his shoulders awaiting assistance, but his little brother was not waiting for him on that day.

For just a moment Arthur had felt something stir in his chest and a look of pain washed over his face but it was gone quickly and for the first time in what felt like forever he took his own jacket off and was not greeted home. It had occurred to Arthur to try seeking Jett out but in the end he never took that course of action.  
Instead he merely walked slowly down the quiet and dark hall back to his study alone and returned to business as usual.

Jack was beginning to crack under the pressure.

“Arthur!” Jack had shouted after England one day as he made his way down the hall towards his study like he did every day to lock himself away once more. Much to Jack’s surprise his brother had stopped and turned back to face him with an exhausted sigh.

“America I really don’t have the time to….” Arthur stopped, realising what he’d just said. An expression of utter despair came over the great nation’s face as he turned towards Jack, knowing he’d have to mend his error but the damage was already done.

Jack’s expression had, at first, held the same miserable torn look that Arthur wore but it quickly twisted into rage. An anger he’d never felt before towards his own brother grew in his chest.  
Through all the ignoring and the people suffering Jack had never felt so personally wronged by his own brother. He’d never felt as though Arthur had entirely forgotten him until that moment.

“Listen, lad…” Arthur began to speak but Jack could take no more of this treatment. His endurance wasn’t enough.

“Do you even know what my name is?” His scream had echoed through the entire house, the walls all but shook with how loudly he bellowed out those agonised words. “Don’t you even remember who I am? So what if America is gone? So _what_!”

Slamming his palm against his chest Jack glared up at his elder brother with an expression of hatred that he’d never been able to conjure up before.  
“He’s gone but I’m still right here – _Me_. I’m still here!”

“Now listen here!” Arthur had become angry himself, turning fully to face his little brother. “Your behaviour is getting out of hand. Your clothes and attitude are beginning to become unmanageable. I don’t want to punish you but if I must--”

“Shut up!” Jack barked. “Punishment is better than being ignored, bastard!” Unable to take another second there in the house with Arthur, Jack had turned away from his brother and fled out the manor into the rain that waited outside the doors. Arthur had shouted after him, even taking a few steps after the younger nation with an arm outstretched but Jack had always been fast and was gone before England even had the chance to stop him.

Sighing heavily Arthur’s hand lowered slightly before pressing against his forehead.  
“Jack….your name is Jack. I didn’t mean to forget.” Arthur dared not allow himself tears; he dared not let himself cry again. He had not lost another brother; he had merely unintentionally alienated him.

…  
…

Jack ran.   
He did not know how long he ran or how far he had gotten. He had no idea where he was half of the time and he was blinded by the rain the other half. When finally his legs gave out and his lungs screamed their protest to the heavens Jack stopped. Collapsing back against what felt like a wall while panting heavily.

His face angled up into the rain as the soft soothing drops of water poured down onto him, helping to ease the ache of his tired body.   
Slowly he slipped down the wall and onto the muddy ground, now he looked like one of those suffering people that his brother chose to ignore. How fitting.  
Without the formal clothes of his brother and the mud that clung to him all over he hardly looked like a nation or someone of a noble upbringing. He truly did appear to be a good for nothing, starving waste.

But he did not feel lowly. Jack felt almost free, _almost_.   
He’d spoken the words he’d willed himself to speak for months but it hurt as well. It hurt because he did not know what good it would do or if England would even miss him while he lay out in the rain.

While Jack was thinking a soft scuffling sound caught his attention. Slowly Jack’s eye lids slid back over green hues as he looked towards the sound. A small cat sat in the rain by his side, the poor thing looked to be half starved itself and with a sorry laugh he reached out to pat it.  
The cat hissed and backed away, scratching at his hand.

“Ahh, come now.” Jack cooed softly. “I won’t bite…” He tried to urge the cat to let him pat it but the little thing was quite a stubborn beast. Jack smiled and although he got cut by the cats claws and chewed up by its sharp little teeth he still tried to win it over whilst laughing.

While he was enthralled by his play time with that violent kitty, a small figure had peeked its way around the corner. Calling to the cat was a girl’s voice, the cat immediately left Jack’s abused hand and ran to the small form of a hiding girl.  
Jack recognised her as the girl that had been caught stealing. The same girl he’d allowed to go free.

“Hello there.” He smiled at her even though she seemed afraid of him, the girl no doubt recognised him from that time as well. She didn’t look any healthier; in fact when Jack looked at her frail arms he could see she was even thinner than last time.

“Hello sir…” Came her small squeaked reply. The cat curled around her legs affectionately mewling at her as though expecting food that she obviously did not have.

Jack took another glance over the girl before standing up with a groan. She jumped back from him, still afraid and the cat hissed in warning.

“Don’t worry.” Jack looked at the two and grinned with a wink. “Just wait right here.” With that he walked away from the wall and towards the main road. As he looked around Jack knew exactly what he was looking for and the smell was what alerted him to its presence.

Turning to his side Jack’s eyes landed on a bakery, the scent of beautifully made bread coming to him sweetly. It was the end of the day and they’d be discarding the older bread.

Without even stopping to think about the consequences Jack had grabbed up an armful of the bread and without a word walked away with it. The bread was lukewarm in his arms and he held it protected from the rain under his clothes. The girl was just where he’d left her and when she saw him returning she inched closer to the wall, not sure what to expect.

When he produced the bread for her to see those childish eyes grew large. She glanced between him and the stash of stolen food about ten times; unable to believe he’d just give it to her. Jack smiled invitingly holding the bundle out to her, urging her to take it. He never felt happier than when her little hands reached out to take the bread.

“Don’t go eating it all at once you’ll get sick and you won’t have any to eat later. Head on home now.” The girl nodded rapidly and began to run down the back street that they had met in. The cat following after her quickly, no doubt wanting some of that food.

Jack felt good, he felt better than just good he was positively glowing. Arthur always told him that their people were their happiness and lives. Jack did not yet have his own people but…he was beginning to think maybe those that were suffering now would become his life. Perhaps girls like that would be able to find salvation with him as their nation – wouldn’t that be nice.

While contemplating this Jack had started to walk away but the sound of a howling cat’s screech stopped him dead.  
A cry went up in the air.  
“ _Thief, thief_!”  
And all at once Jack felt the weight of his actions; he was not the one that the word ‘thief’ was being shouted at. Instead it was the girl.

Turning back Jack took off running down the alleyway that the girl had vanished into; it came out onto the other side into a large street and with many people gathered around it was hard to spot the centre of all the commotion at first.  
When he saw it Jack felt his blood run cold.  
The bread he’d stolen lay in the mud, ruined for the girl and the cat lay in a similar fashion. Its weak mews could still be heard as the girl crouched by it, whispering something desperately.

Someone had kicked the cat and knocked the bread from her hands and that person was still shouting thief. Jack recognised the man in the uniform, an enforcer of the law. He was advancing on the girl and just for a second Jack’s heart and mind stopped working all together, he saw a club coming up…that man was going to strike the girl and that girl was crying.

And Jack broke.

Striding forward, through the sea of heavy rain coats and umbrellas Jack walked right into the centre of the slowly gathering circle.  
His hand found itself resting on the smooth handle of his machete and drawing it free from his hip. The officer turned to face Jack, the sound of approaching footsteps turning into a pounding run against the wet, muddy ground.

As he turned the man hardly even had time to register what came flying down towards his face as Jack descended on him. The sound of mental hitting flesh came as a sickening thud, thankfully Jack still had enough sense not to use the sharp edge of his blade, using the blunt side instead so it was more of a club than a true blade.

The man fell to the ground and the wind escaped him, blood exploded from his nose and a cry from his lips. Still Jack only raised the weapon again, bringing it down on the man’s hand, forcing him to release his hold on the bat before standing over his bloodied body. Behind him the girl from earlier was trembling, shaken to the point of tears when she saw the violence Jack was capable of. That was fine, she was safe so it didn’t matter if she feared him.

“Go on.” He muttered to the girl without looking at her. “Get out of here already.” Gathering up the cat in her arms the small girl looked back at Jack for a moment and while he expected to see fear all Jack saw was gratitude. Silently the girl bowed her head and ran off through the crowed, not a soul dare stop her.

“What’s going on over here?” Another office had arrived, seeing what appeared to be a filthy street rat attacking the man on the ground. After that…things escalated far out of control.

Jack turned to face the new enemies head on; sheathing his blade he instead readied his fists with a dangerous look in his eyes. He’d fight until he was dead or they were on the ground. Jack would not back down – he wasn’t going to backtrack now.

…  
…

“Arthur! Sir Arthur!” England’s head rose from his paper work at the desperate beating at his door. What could someone want at this hour? Did he not make it clear he wanted no one to disturb him?

Standing with a sigh Arthur turned to look out the window and into the rain outside.  
“Come in.”

Thinking that perhaps something of importance had happened England allowed the person entrance. A young man stumbled in, he was dressed as an official officer but he seemed too young. A messenger boy perhaps?   
He was drenched and was currently getting Arthur’s lovely carpet wet, much to his annoyance but the lad was panting heavily as though he’d just run a great distance and looked even more distraught.

“Spit it out lad, come on speak up.” England demanded, growing agitated. He’d already fought with Jack that day; he didn’t feel like adding incompetence to the list of things that annoyed him that day.

“S-Sir…” The young man breathed out, his tone bordering terror. “I-It’s your brother sir. It’s Jack Kirkland…”

Arthur spun around fully to face the boy, his eyes widening at the words. What now? Oh heaven have mercy what _now_?  
Without even grabbing his coat England had rushed from his office.

Little brother…what have you done?

…  
…

It hurt. Ahh, yes did it hurt. But it felt so damn _good_.

Jack stood in the rain, blood running down his face as he gasped desperately for air. There had been more officers than he first thought but as the fight went on his power as a country had shone through even in their greater numbers. He did not take up his blade again knowing if he did death would be on their hands.

His fists were split at the knuckles and bled far worse than his face, surely he had broken some bones in his hands but Jack could feel none of it.  
All he felt was freedom, all he felt was the joy of being seen and even if he was seen in a bad light he was no longer ignored.

He fought for the sake of one starving child but he was fighting for more than any one of the men that came after him. The heat in his body made it impossible for him to feel the rain that pelted down on his face or the pain that his body would no doubt feel later when he’d come down off of his violence high.

“Come on! Come on!” Jack shouted, throwing his arms out to the side, welcoming a new attacker. “You bloody wankers got nothing left do ya?” Jack felt joy like he’d never felt before, he felt rage like he’d never known and he felt a pain deep inside of him that he did not know could exist. It w as flurry of emotions he couldn’t take the time to fully process and the result was a crippling mix of madness and glee.

There were more officers that had not yet fallen but they did not attack, they’d become uncertain once discovering he was Jack Kirkland, what were they supposed to do with a country causing a scene? This annoyed Jack, they should fight for themselves.

“Fine…” Jack’s fists came back up and he stepped towards them. “I’ll go first than.” As he spoke Jack suddenly felt a blunt force slamming into the back of his head, an attack from behind he’d not expected knocking him to his knees.  
For a moment the entire world shook and spun, tipping off onto its side. Jett saw small pockets of black in his vision but it only fuelled the red haze in his mind and spitefully he smiled.

Spitting out a mouthful of blood Jack slowly staggered back up to his feet, looking over his shoulder he saw an officer had hit him with a bat and his eyes widened and pupils dilated as he stared down at the human.

“If I was human…a blow like to the head would have killed me. You trying to kill me? Fine…that’s good.” Jack’s hand found its way to his machete and once again he’d drawn it, damn common sense, to hell with caution – he wanted to see someone else’s blood this time.

“That means if you get a little fucked up, it’s no skin off my back!” The blade came flying down and much to Jack’s approval it was blocked by the club. Smirking he threw another blow, finding the officer’s attacks to be clumsy and uncertain, he had not been trained to do sword play of any kind – after all they had guns.

The bat was thrown from the officer’s hands, leaving him defenceless and Jack raised the sharp edge of his weapon above his head. He had gone too far, he knew it but he couldn’t seem to stop grinning and he could not remove the hatred he felt for these people, his gaze was tainted red just like his clothes and skin.

“Stop! Stop I say!” Somewhere behind them Jack could hear someone shouting but he paid them no mind. Too far gone in his insanity to even realise the voice that called to him was one that he should have listened to.

As the blade came down towards the officer Jack’s eyes noticed something that almost made him stop dead. The officer was nothing more than a young man, only a little older than himself – it was just some kid. Jack did hesitate, the motion jerking to shaky halt as his eyes looked over the officer under him. The large blue eyes were filled with terror and it made Jack’s breath hitch. This was not an enemy…it was just some poor young sod that had gotten too cocky in attacking a nation.  
Was he really to kill this person that was nothing more than a boy?  
Was Jack really able to…?

“Jack!” A familiar voice shouted his name and a different force stopped his blade in its decent. The sound of metal against metal grinding together screeched out across the scene.   
His machete was lost, flying out of his hands in his clumsiness and Jack fell back onto the muddy earth with a small thud. Jack hardly even registered what had happened, the officer was no longer his target and Jack found himself face to face with England.

His older brother held a blade pointed at his face and Jack could see the older nation panting heavily, he almost looked like he’d run all the way here. Arthur’s face was contorted with an emotion that Jack could not place, he’d never seen such an expression directed at him before but for some reason it made his chest tight. There was a silence, the only sound that Jack could hear was heavy breathing as he and his older brother stared at one another – until Arthur began to speak.

“Stop this madness.” Arthur ordered Jack, the tip of his sword not wavering from Jack’s face. “You’re going to get into trouble Jack, enough is enough! Committing such an offense--”

“What is my crime?” Jack demanded, shouting up at his brother. He knew that he should stop, knew it should end here and that his words would bring him nothing but pain…but this was what he knew to be true.   
“Is my crime trying to live? Is it the mere act of trying to feed one’s self that is now a crime brother? Oh, great British Empire?”

“You know very well what your crime was.” Arthur growled through grit teeth. This was bad; he was being backed into a corner by his angry little brother.

“Then I deny my crime. I deny your laws and punishment because it is wrong.” Jack’s eyes darted to his machete, it was within grabbing distance. Arthur saw the motion as well.

“Jack, don’t--!” He hardly even got the words out before Jack had dived for it, his hand snatching up the handle from the mud and swinging it violently around to knock his brother’s blade away.

“Cease this lunacy at once!” Arthur was shouting at him but Jack would not see reason, he came at his brother again. The two weapons screaming as the clashed together. Jack was blinded by his anger and his attacks were becoming less elegant and more vicious, he was losing balance and control, both of which England kept.

Arthur’s skill outweighed his brother’s raw strength and rage. But even this did not aid England in the end and instead it sealed the end to their fight.  
As Jack lunged at Arthur his machete, which had long since been past its prime, broke between the handle and the blade. The weapon split in two when hit by England’s sword and without realising it Arthur’s motion continued through…and cut into Jack.

With a shout of agony Jack fell backwards, the two halves of his weapon falling on either side of him as he fell back down into the disgusting muddy streets.  
As the red haze faded from Jack’s eyes and mind he became aware of how much pain he was truly in and…his face. Oh god his _face_ , it was on fire. Jack’s hands reached up to clutch the area of his face that was causing him such anguish and his fingers came away slick with his own blood.

The crimson liquid dribbled down between the cracks in his fingers and onto the ground below. It blinded Jack and suffocated him, he knew the wound was deep but he did not realise it was unintentional.   
Arthur looked down at his little brother, face twisted in horror as he watched the blood stream from between his fingers. His blade was coated with Jack’s blood as well, all of the denial in the world could not evade the fact he’d just sliced open his younger brother’s face.

A wound from a human on a country would heal in no time at all to a human but a wound from one country to another…something like that would perhaps never heal. Countries bore scars of the events in history that most prominently effected them – neither of them were to know at the time, that this scar would become permanent. Arthur was mortified, his heart was pounding in his head and he could hear nothing over it other than the sound of Jack’s gasps of pain.

Trembling Arthur’s grip on his blade tightened and his free hand balled into a fist. He knew his role, he knew his duty and even if it hurt him he could not drop to his knees and comfort Jack. He could not be a big brother, in that moment he had to be a country.

“This situation can still be salvaged. Jack Kirkland, you will repent for your crimes and you will pay for them in full. As you are not a human you can still be redeemed for these acts. All you need to do is claim your regret and vow your remorse and regret for you actions…What say you, Jack Kirkland?” Arthur lowered his blade and held his hand out to Jack but when he saw it to was stained with his brother’s blood he withdrew it hastily.

“No.” Arthur’s entire body tensed at the simple word.

_Oh please, god. No._

“What was that…?”

“No I say!” Jack’s harsh eyes looked up at his brother, the blood that covered his entire being giving him an all but demonic look. “I regret nothing, I refuse to feel remorse or repent. My actions on this day are my own and they are my true nature!”

Jack did not know pain like this could exist, truly he did not know that he could inflict so much suffering on to himself. He wanted to return to those days by his big brother’s side and remain there forever but he knew he could not.   
He must not stop moving forward, Arthur would see. His big brother would come through and after that day they’d stop the suffering together. Surely….surely his big brother would see!

Arthur said nothing though, his head lowered and Jack could not see what type of face he made behind the strands of blonde hair over his face. His silence began to scare Jack – was Arthur really not going to see things Jack’s way? Not even for a moment pause to consider that maybe Jack might have made a good point?

“Engl-- _brother_!” Jack began to speak again, speaking directly to his brother. Not England but to Arthur. “Please you must understand. I can’t live this way anymore…this is not a way that I ca--”

“Then go your own way!”

In that moment Jack knew he’d not be returning to their home.  He’d not be getting a pat on the head from his big brother and he’d not be gently scolded any longer.  
It was not his big brother that had raised him from birth that stood there but instead the powerful nation that he was.

“Jack Kirkland as the British Empire I sentence you to life. As long as a country shall live you shall live away from here.” Arthur spoke loudly, his voice carrying through the whole town, through the back streets and far into the fields beyond. The entire nation seemed to hear his order.

“You will be sent to the island prison with the rest of your kind. It is there that you’ll serve your sentence, alone.” Jack couldn’t even feel his pounding heart anymore; he felt nothing other than this slow crushing sensation. Nothing but immense loss and grieving.  
“For the greater good of the British Empire….”

“Brother!” He shouted, reaching out for Arthur even as strong sets of hands grabbed onto his limbs. “Big brother. No. Stop, let me go!” Jack kicked and struggled against the many pairs of hands it took to restrain him. He kicked and squirmed only to slip in the mud under his feet while Arthur turned away and began to leave him behind without so much as a backwards glance.

“Please Arthur!” Jack screamed. “Please don’t do this to me!” He screamed until his voice would no longer work and all that was left behind was tears. The tears that burned his open wounds as they dripped onto the ground below, lost in the downfall of rain above.

…  
…

“On this year, the year of 1787, we send out the first fleet to the newly found world down under. This land will be named Australia.” Arthur delivered the speech flawlessly at the harbour the day of the fleet’s departure.  
“Eleven ships will make the journey to start proper British colonisation.” He announced. “I will personally oversee the voyage and I do hope that the colony of Australia will come to serve the greater good in time.” Arthur finished and there was a round of approving claps given. Arthur thanked his boss with a smile and continued on with business as usual.

All the while, locked securely in chains Jack remained in bowels of the ship. It was dark and the entire world rocked back and forth with every small wave. His wounds were dressed poorly but as he was not human and they all healed quickly, all but one.

The bandage on his face was still soaked through with blood and despite knowing it would only continue to hinder his recovery…Jack tore it from his face.  
In the reflection of his cuffs Jack could see the jagged gash across his nose, marring his once flawless face.

“Never heal.” He whispered softly. “Never heal, always hurt…so I don’t forget.”  The chains rattled as Jack pressed his hands to his face and wept. There was no one with him to listen to his cries; he could be strong once he arrived at his prison.

‘ _We’ll explore that world together!_ ’ Jack remembered having had someone say something like that to him a long time ago but it was just him and he was not exploring…he was trapped within it.   
The sorrow and remorse that Jack had felt began to twist and mutate into a different emotion. _Hatred_.  
That once unknown emotion had become eerily familiar to Jack now and it was all he could feel. Because he did not cry when he was angry, he did not weep when hate filled him…he’d just have to learn to hate so he would not be weak.

He’d hate America.  
He’d hate his big brother  
And he would always despise those words that he whispered to himself on that long voyage across the sea.

“Go your own way…”

 

…  
…( _Back to Present Time.)_  
…

 

Chris stopped speaking with a small and remorseful smile. “Countries have falling outs like this all the time. People like us don’t really get the chance to stay together.” Germany had been silent through all of Chris’s talking, finding him to be much more informative than Jett had been.  
“Do you have more questions Germany?”

“Ja. Just one for now. Jack?” Germany frowned at the name. “That is what you called him, ja? Why is his name not Jack any longer?”

“Hm. He threw it away I suppose. ‘I don’t want the name that wanker gave me!’ or something along those lines. He just took up whatever name he fancied. Guess he thought it was smooth.” Chris said with a laugh and shrug.

“I see… Would you be able to tell me about why there are two of you?” Chris frowned at that and Germany clarified. “Jett was the colony from England that came to Australia but you were the original country were you not?”

“About that, well you see…I have no clue!” Chris laughed cheerfully though Germany didn’t seem to find it funny and eventually his serious face stopped that laughter. “What I mean to say is, I may have been there when Jett arrived, and I may not have been. I have no memory of anything before my first birthday with Jett and no one seems ready to tell me anything.”

Kicking his feet up Chris smiled brightly while staring at the sky. “And frankly I don’t care much. I’m Australia now and I have my history inside of me, making me who I am now. Whatever grievances I had back then don’t matter now. Moving forward and all that.”

“Ja….moving forward.” Germany wasn’t sure what to make of Chris’s attitude but he couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way. He did not remember past a certain time himself but he never went out seeking it. Perhaps he and the wild beast of a country did, oddly enough, have something in common.

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Chris suddenly groaned. “We’re way late! Crap, Jett’s gunna have my ass and if he doesn’t then Iggy sure will!”

Germany’s eyes widened as he checked his watch. They were very, awfully late and that….oh that just made the German’s poor little head explode. Still…he had gotten quite a bit of information so perhaps he could forgive this one time.

 

…  
…  
…

 

Jett scowled at Chris as he tried to stealthily take his seat next to him. He was awfully late and that in turn had made the German late, making Jett feel the need to apologise to him later.  
For the time being he didn’t say anything to Chris as the meeting was back into full swing and his little brother was smiling in that guilty sheepish way of his.   
With a heavy sigh Jett made a mental note to beat him over the head later.

Again Jett fell into a bored state of mind, finding himself fiddling aimlessly with a pen on the table before him. Gradually his mind wandered back to the room he’d almost stopped at before bumping into Germany. He probably should have left it alone seeing as he’d distanced himself from those days but there was a curiosity that Jett couldn’t ignore.

Would the room be empty after so many years? Would it be locked up?   
After a while of the maddening thoughts plaguing him Jett decided that he’d just go and check on it after the meeting.  
Just a quick visit to ease his curious mind and that would be that.

So when the meeting was broken up and the various nations began to make their way out, stopping to speak to one another as they slowly gathered up their things Jett took off almost as fast as Chris had during the break.  
He’d have to make it fast or someone might question him.  
Making a bee line for the old room Jett made sure to dodge any nation or person he thought might try to speak to him, thankfully there were few of those.

Once again Jett found himself standing out front of that wooden door. There was less hesitation on his part this time as he pressed his palm flat to its smooth surface and with a steady intake of air he pushed.  
It was unlocked and slowly slid open under his hand with a quiet squeak. The room inside smelt of gathering dust and was shrouded in darkness, the sole light coming from a sliver between the curtains on the window.

As Jett peered into the quiet little room he realised it was unchanged. The room in his memory looked exactly like the one here though it was a little less dark and a little more lived in when he remembered it.   
Jett felt his feet pulling him inwards but he recoiled, if he went into that room now he’d no doubt have stupid thoughts he’d rather ignore.  
If he stepped foot in that room now he’d no doubt stay there too long and be found out so instead he took a slow and cautious step back away from it.

“Australia?” Jumping at the sound of his nation’s name Jett turned and found himself looking at the owner of this establishment and the absolute _last_ person he wanted to run into.

He and England stared at one another for what felt like a life time, Jett frozen where he stood and England surprised by the sight of his colony in this place. That surprised expression eventually faded into a smile, it was a tad bit uncertain and nervous but still the great empire did try to smile at the island nation.

“I didn’t expect you to come up here…” He stepped closer to Jett who in turn took a step back, not willing to close the distance between them. “Ah. That’s not to say I’m upset you came up here!” Arthur amended quickly, still trying to smile but frankly he didn’t quite know what to say. He and Jett had not spoken since…well since their last falling out.

Jett still said nothing, his silence did not encourage Arthur at all. Still the Englishman pressed on, hoping that with the time passed he’d be able to get a word in finally. Hoping that he’d perhaps be able to speak to his colony after such a long divide.

“I was hoping we could chat. Perhaps have some tea and a nice sit down?” Still Jett was silent, his head angled away from his mother nation.  England began to feel even more discouraged.  
Stepping forward again he reached out for his colony, wanting to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Jack, please come and just--” The hand that had reached for the younger nation was batted away viciously, causing Arthur to flinch at the violence directed towards him.

“Don’t call me that!” Jett snarled back at England, his voice becoming free at the sound of his original name. The name that Arthur had given him as a child. “You have no right.”

Arthur had not intended for things to take this turn but Jack was testing his patience, this misbehaving, this inability to listen or behave himself was driving Arthur to breaking point. Arthur had tried to mend the bond between he and Jack and all he got in return was harsh resistance, every single time.

“No right?” Arthur repeated the words, insult and rage brewing up in him as it had in the Australian. “ _No right_?” Striding forward angrily Arthur’s hand slammed into the wall by Jett’s head. “You are my colony! I have every right to call you by your name. You are my little brother!”

“No!” Jett shouted the single word. Leaving it hanging in the air, leaving a chill hanging around them as the two stood like statues. Arthur recoiled from Jack, staring at him with mortified eyes.

“No…?” The word stung more than Arthur had imagined it would. Jett had never before rejected him as a brother, he’d never outright said it. Arthur had his assumptions but hearing the simple rejection brought up memories of the American revolution. He couldn’t have that happen again, he would _never_ let it happen!

“What the bloody hell are you saying?” He demanded of Jett who finally met his eyes with that familiar green eyed glare.

“You haven’t been my brother since you pushed me away. Left me on that god forsaken island all alone.” Arthur knew it had been coming, he knew that Jett would use this against him. The past being a weapon sharper than any blade.  
“If we were really brothers you wouldn’t have left me there and forgotten about me! You would not have had me do those things to Christian…” Jett’s words died in his mouth. He couldn’t say anymore, he wouldn’t. Arthur knew what he’d done and Jett wasn’t going to repeat it for him.  
“There’s no way we are brothers.”

“Fine.” Arthur hissed, his pride making it impossible for him to pull out now. “Have it your way. However you are still my colony, you don’t have a choice. That will never change, you hear me, never!” With that Arthur stormed away, there wasn’t enough tea in the world to cool his head off right then.

As he stomped down the hallway England completely missed the form that had stood around the corner listening to the whole exchange. He missed the pair of cold blue eyes that followed his retreating form down the hall and didn’t notice when the figure uncurled its arms from its chest and push off the wall.

“Germany! Ger-man-y!” Germany turned to see Italy running from the bathroom. “Did you wait long? Were you bored without me? Were you, were you?”

“Very bored, ja.” The German responded nonchalantly, his eyes sliding back over towards the hallway he’d heard the strange exchange between brothers from.

“Vee, vee~ Luddy, you got that serious face again.” Italy told him while flapping his hands about pointlessly. Germany merely smiled with a soft ‘hmpf.’  
“Ooh…is Germany thinking about something really hard? Like maths?” Italy asked in that naïve way of his.

“Ja.” Germany responded with a barely visible smile. “I was just thinking about the future and what I should do.” As Germany lead Italy away from the bathroom and back towards the meeting room back to Kiku and the other somewhat unmanageable Italian he gave a single glance over his shoulder, seeing the Australian nation was still standing in silence.

That was good, if he had fallen to his knees Germany might have been disappointed.

 

…  
…  
…

Conviction- End.


	2. Settlement

_Not again…_

Jett was thrashing again.  
His chest heaved heavily under the sheets that acted more to hinder him than comfort the dreaming nation.  
Forehead drenched with sweat and every little twitch and shudder followed with a sound of agony. Jett’s bushy eye brows knitted together in an expression of terror and pain, his fists clenched the sheets tightly even as his legs kicked and fought against them.

Chris sat up straight in the bed by his brother’s side, looking down at the troubled nation with a frown. Jett often had nightmares and would wake up in a panic –more often than not – but since the world gathering they’d only become worse.  
Had something happened to set him off?

Chris’s expression little by little became increasingly concerned, Jett had not yet woken up but his violent nightmares were obviously worse than usual. He’d even whisper the occasional cry, people’s names and pleas for something to end. It was all very troubling for his brother to hear.

Throwing the sheets from his body Chris left the bed abruptly, unable to sit by his pained sibling any longer. Walking to their cupboard he looked around inside, having to brush off various spider nests and little rodents that had found their home in between their spare sheets.

“Sorry little mates…” Chris murmured quietly while pushing off a huntsman and his mates. “But big brother needs these.” With that the sleepy nation walked back to his brother’s side, shaking the blankets he’d retrieved out nice and good to make sure nothing dangerous to his brother’s health was lurking inside. Thankfully he only got a bit of dust and the odd beetle.

They hardly ever needed these heavier blankets with such a warm climate but that night had been chilly as it was and with Jett so distressed Chris felt the need to play the role of a good brother and try to make him comfortable again.  
Not for the first time Chris wished that Jett would speak to him a little bit more. Perhaps if Chris knew what it was that had his brother’s nights plagued with fear he’d be able to comfort him correctly but they were mates, mates didn’t do that girly feeling stuff!  
Still….mates looked out for one another so he should at least be able to tell Chris a little bit right?

Sighing Chris sat back on the bed and dragged the blanket over both him and Jett, wrapping his arms around his big brother. Jett’s body tensed under Chris’s own but slowly began to relax into the embrace.  
His jerking and soft cries began to calm into a quiet panting and Chris felt Jett’s sweaty palms wrapping around him, if Jett had been awake he’d have pushed Chris away but his sleeping self was oddly more honest with his needs.

“I’m sorry…” Jett whispered, it was what he said the most when sleeping. The same apology over and over again. “Forgive me…forgive….” Even his whimpered pleas eventually died away and Jett’s sleep returned to a peaceful one.

The two brothers held one another under the heavy blanket and even though the air that night had been chilly there was constant warmth from the other. This was exactly what Chris saw in his brother, not a fellow nation but a true brother, they were friends, family and the best of mates.

“My mate.”  Chris murmured quietly to the sleeping Jett.  
Smiling faintly at the thought Chris’s green eyes gradually closed and he returned to his own sleep and Chris never did dream when he slept, never once did he have a nightmare it was just soothing darkness behind his closed eyes.

He’d never guess that it was because Jett took all of his brother’s bad dreams away, he’d never guess the extremes that Jett went to so he could simply keep Chris from remembering bad things.

What else was a big brother for if not protecting his little siblings?

 

…  
…  
…

 

 _Heavy_ ….  
Something heavy was on him.

Jett groaned as he woke up that morning, the sight of the sun filtering in through their window surprising the nation. Usually when he woke up it was still the dead of night and he’d just been spurred from his sleep by a nightmare.  
That morning he’d woken up simply because his body decided it was time he open his eyes and haul his ass out of the bed.

As he tried to follow his body’s desires and sit up he found the heavy thing on him was very much a real thing and much heavier than he’d first thought. With a grunt of effort he pushed against the weight and found it was soft, warm…and alive.  
Opening his eyes properly Jett realised that it was his little brother that held onto him and weighed him down.  
Instantly irritation took over Jett and he squirmed to get out from under his bloody brother but Chris slept like a rock and was about as moveable as one.

“Stupid ruddy--! For crying out loud..!” Jett cursed angrily in his fighting to get free before noticing that there was something else on him he had not gone to sleep with. Grabbing a fist full of the blanket that they usually kept stored away for winter Jett studied it with a bemused expression.  
He did not remember getting this out or having it on the bed which meant….

Looking over at his sleeping little brother Jett’s frown became an expression of understanding.  
So Chris had gone out and played the part of a loving little brother, eh?  
Begrudgingly Jett allowed his body to relax under Chris’s warm torso, he knew that if he was mean to Chris that morning he’d be given a guilt trip by his brother’s act of kindness and puppy dog eyes.  
Allowing a heavy sigh to leave his chest Jett’s hands clutched the warm blanket tightly as he tried to wait out his brother’s sleep but Chris was a sleeping creature by nature and Jett lacked patience.

“Jett…” Chris’s sleeping voice whispered his name quietly and Jett yelped as he felt arms curling around him.  
_Oh this bloody fucking wanker! I’m not your teddy bear!_ Jett began to spit and curse furiously before noticing that Chris was still very much asleep.  
With no other choice Jett once again had to let himself relax into his brother’s arms, perhaps he was being to giving with Christian as of late but…he was harsh enough with his brother in his nightmares. There was no need to drag it out in the waking world.

Since the meeting Jett became aware that his face was getting worse, the black bags he’d noticed forming earlier were now a permanent addition to his features. He was becoming twitchy and jittery, jumping at every little bang or sudden word. Was he perhaps being a little bit too sensitive?  
They were not living in war time, not in their own land anyway…but still he’d returned to this nervous state.

 _It was that bloody meeting._ Jett thought bitterly while grinding his teeth in frustration.  
When he thought back on that time he could only remember his run in with England, he’d remembered the various emotions that had crippled him back then, but most of all he remembered the look on England’s face.  
That expression on Arthur’s had surprised Jett somewhat; the look had turned bitter quickly but for just that second Jett had seen agony on his big brother’s face.

 _Former brother._ Jett corrected himself, still not ready to let go of his own bitterness.

“Jetty~” Jett’s eye twitched at the sound of Chris’s voice, still sleep riddled and slurred as he drew out Jett’s nick name, a sleep drunken laugh following the word.

“So you’re awake now mate?” Jett asked, growling through his teeth as his hand tightened into a fist. “Perfect.”

Chris must have seen the murder that Jett’s eyes screamed when he looked back at his brother because immediately he was no longer sleepy.

“H-Hey mate…?” Chris tried but it was too late for that, Jett was on him seconds flat and much like it had in the meeting Jett was more than happy to have his brother eating carpet.

 

…  
… _One brotherly beating later._  
…

 

“So what’s on today’s chore list?” Jett asked while again fixing himself up in the mirror, ignoring the groaning form of Chris on the bed. He’d not hurt the boy seriously, he was just complaining.  
Jett was always distinctly aware that he’d never be able to leave a true wound on Christian now days.  
Sometimes he wondered if Chris knew it too, knew that he was holding so much back during their scuffles.

“Ah…” Chris sat up slowly, untangling himself from the mess of bed sheets as he tried desperately to remember the boring stuff.  
“I think that Indonesia wants to see us.” Chris said finally and immediately went off on a tangent about what prize he could get from winning a bet with her.

Jett on the other hand frowned in the mirror, hands stopping on his tie at the name of the nation.  
“Indonesia…?”

Repeating the name Jett could feel the familiar sense of anxiety and remorse pooling up inside of him and his hands clutched the red tie tightly. Chris on the other hand had finally jumped from bed, dragging on his clothes up from the ground, shaking off the lizards and other creepy crawlies that had made his fallen clothes their nest for the night.

“Ah, have you forgotten?” Jett flinched. “Kirana wants to see me for a while. It’s alright I won’t drag you along to this one if you don’t want. I don’t think anything important is happening, crikey it’s almost like she just wants to visit as friends! Nice sheila ain’t she?”

Smiling in his cheerful oblivious way Chris vanished into the bathroom even as Jett turned away from the mirror to let his eyes follow his little brother, hands still held tight to the red fabric.

“Chris…” Jett sighed his brother’s name even as the sound of him banging his way around the bathroom sounded in the bedroom.

‘ _Have you forgotten_?’ Unintentionally Jett had cringed at those words. How ironic, did Chris known somewhere in the back of his mind just what words would attack Jett the harshest? Was he sub-consciously punishing his big brother?

Turning back the mirror Jett began to finish off his clothes for the day.  
_Indonesia_.  
That woman must hate his guts almost as much as he did himself. Accompanying Chris to see her would not be ideal, he’d be constantly scorned by her and Jett didn’t feel the need to be scowled at during the whole visit.  
Jett may have been inclined to scowl back at her if he did not so whole heartedly agree with her.

Yes, it’d be better if he just looked after things at home for the time being. Let Chris and Kirana have their play-date. The thought made Jett smile even though he felt his heart weighing so heavily in his chest.  
In the bathroom Jett distantly heard the shower starting, at least that idiot was going to be clean for his meeting with another nation….but then why did he start getting dressed at all? Jett would get a headache if he tried to figure it out.

“Perhaps he can stay out of my hair for one day.” Jett told his reflection while tugging at his clothes to remove the more obvious creases. “He’s such a pest, it’d be nice to be rid of him for just a little while, right?”

Jett tried smiling at his reflection but found the expression to be so fake and unappealing that he immediately dropped it. At the same time he noticed the two strands of hair sticking up straight again, damn things. Angrily he raked his nails through his hair to pull them back down, stupid bloody hair.

“Ahhh!” Jett damn near jumped out of his skin. That was the sound of Chris screaming and immediately Jett’s mind was overcome with fear.  
It would not be a spider of snake that made his brother yelp, such things simply couldn’t happen to the two countries least bothered by their many deadly creatures. In fact they’d been scolded often for being so proud of their dangerous wildlife and using it to scare other nations.

It had to be something serious.  
Or something stupid.

“What is it? What happened!?” Jett shouted while throwing open the door to the bathroom. Inside the water was overflowing onto the floor and Chris was sitting on the floor with his back to Jett. Immediately Jett began to panic, was his little brother hurt? He never screamed, what could have happened?

“God god, oh crikey, oh man…” Chris was close to hysteria and when he heard Jett coming in the young male turned around holding his hands out to Jett with eye the size of the moon, filled to the brink with childish tears. Jett took one look at Chris’s hand and his worry vanished, being replaced with blinding fury.

_He’d thought it had to be something serious or stupid…._

“Chris….you…” In Chris’s palms lay what was once no doubt some kind of vegemite container, the thing had been destroyed, it looked as though a goanna had gotten into it. He’d screamed over his damned disgusting snack? He was wasting his brother’s time!

_And…._

“My shower snack….oh why?” Chris moaned in agony and Jett’s fist tightened.

“I thought that Jetty would like a snack too but…” Chris added sullenly, looking into the shower that was still overflowing out onto the floor. Inside a sick and pissed looking platypus sat, the evidence of Chris’s offered ‘snack’ still on its bill.

_The results point to something…_

“Eh…? Mate? Sum’thing wrong?” Chris looked up at the advancing form of his fuming brother, cracking his knuckles as he came.  
“Wait mate! Hold on a tick..! Gah!”

_Thwak_

_….Retarded._

 

…  
… _A second brotherly beating later_  
…

It was something like the third time through that Jett was explaining just why keeping a platypus in the shower, flooding the house and almost killing the poor thing with that awful stuff he liked, was _not_ acceptable when there was a knock at the door.

“You.” Jett pointed at the sulking Chris with one single finger and a glare. “Stay put, ya got it? I’m not through with you.” With an added growl Chris nodded sullenly, hands in his lap after the severe beating and scolding he got from his big brother.  
Standing from his seat Jett walked to the hall and finally to the door.

“Uh…bro?” Jett heard Chris’s quiet voice come from behind him. Turning back he looked at the sulking male that held the platypus up like a cat. “Can I keep Jetty…?” Jett slammed the door.

Sighing with a frustrated shake of his head Jett returned to the front door to see who it was, probably their boss complaining about their laziness or maybe someone to pick up Chris for Indonesia.  
When he opened the door though he was shocked to see that it was neither.

Standing on the front step with hands carelessly shoved in his pockets was Gilbert.  
Just what the hell was Prussia doing on his doorstep?

The two of them stood there in silence for a moment before the albino male broke out in a cheery grin and gave a relaxed wave with his hand.  
“Yo.”

“Prussia…” Jett hesitated, uncertain on how to proceed. “What are you doing here…?” Bluntness was always a good start.  
The white haired nation stood in casual clothes, a hoddie and comfortable pants, none of his usual cape like dress in sight. Jett wasn’t entirely sure how to tackle this type of situation.

It wasn’t a political visit obviously and the two of them had never really been acquainted, had he perhaps done something to upset Germany at the meeting?

Or more likely….  
Spinning around with a ferocious speed Jett glared at the door that Chris was behind.  
Yeah if they had done something offensive it was definitely his fault, Jett knew he shouldn’t have left them alone.

As if guess his thoughts Prussia laughed lightly and again waved his hand, this time to dispel Jett’s suspicion.  
“Nein, nein. I’m not here to growl at you or anything like that. Can I come in?” He gestured to the door and Jett immediately stepped back to allow him access. “Actually this is more the other way around, mein little bruder didn’t do anything offensive or weird did he?”

Jett was taken aback by the question, Germany didn’t seem capable of rudeness. He as far too stiff and controlled for that.  
“No, not at all. Ah…would you like some tea?” Jett offered as Prussia stepped into their home.

“Ja, that’d be interesting.” Jett smiled at the word he used instead of nice, had word about England’s bad touch in beverages really spread so far? Tea was pretty safe though.

“Come in. My brother will be leaving soon, I hope that doesn’t inconvenience you?” Jett kept the polite tone, even if Prussia wasn’t quite a nation anymore he’d not want to start anything.

“Mein gott, enough of that!” Prussia waved his hand violently in the air before Jett’s face, startling the Australia. “I’m not West, drop that polite language, it’s annoying.”

Jett allowed himself a small smile, at least he’d not have to strain himself to remain polite. Leading the Prussian into the dining room Jett was pleased to see that Chris had not left the room. He was less pleased to see him running a bath for Jetty.  
No! Do not name what you got to throw back!  
Much less give it your own loathed nick-name.

“I said not to move you bastard.” Jett seethed causing his brother to jump and laugh while rubbing at the back of his head.

“Jetty looked like she wanted to swim.” He explained only causing Jett more annoyance.

“Why did you name it Jetty if it’s a girl?”

“Well I wanted to give her a pretty name.” Jett’s eye twitched. Now his nickname was also a girl’s name? For the third time that morning Jett began to advance on his brother, murder in his gaze, only stopping when a familiar voice called in.

“Christian? Jett? You’re late again…” Both brothers turned to face the source of the voice. Of course Zea had been the one sent to pick Chris up. “You’re making Indonesia wait…” Jett tensed up realising he was holding Christian up from a meeting with that woman and guilt took hold of him like the curse of man it was.

He was unaware of the way those sharp red eyes followed his every move.  
Jett quickly relaxed himself so as not to appear suspicious, he had to remain indifferent and nonchalant towards his little brother and thus acted accordingly.  
With a small sigh Jett lifted his foot and booted his brother in the butt to send him stumbling towards their little brother.

“Go on get moving. You’re wasting space here.” With his usual uncaring goodbye he shoved his brother right out the door with Zea and saw them both off. Glad to finally be rid of Chris, that morning he’d been unbearable. Why was it some mornings Chris decided to be so innocently oblivious to all the trouble he caused?

Jett’s heart couldn’t take much more of this, with just a little more pushing he’d be sure to become a mess.  
He was already being pushed to the edge and Jett found himself longing for the days where none of the past meant a thing to him, exactly when did his guilt become this extreme? At this rate he was going to be overrun by these painful thoughts.

“I feel like a damned emo teenager or something.” He growled to himself unhappily. Jett had almost forgotten his guest as he leant against the front door with a small groan.

“Little bruders are a handful, ja?” Jett jumped when he heard the Prussian’s voice. Turning back he found Gilbert leaning against the wall, watching him with careful crimson eyes.  
“Mein West was always a troubling kinder. Never had as much fun as the awesome me.” Jett wasn’t sure what it was that Prussia wanted but with the oddly normal tone of his usually obnoxious voice he began to doubt that he’d really just shown up to kill time.

“Is there a problem?” Jett asked, trying not to sound cold but found it impossible to keep the slight chill from his words. “Why are you staring at my face like that?”

“It’s ugly.” His words came out cold and blunt causing Jett to freeze up as the older male pushed himself from the wall and stalked over to Jett. Instinctively Jett backed up, Prussia might not be a country anymore but he’d been known throughout the world as a strong nation in his time and Jett was not about to ignore his age and ability to remain alive when others fell.

“It’s really disgusting.” Prussia all but whispered the words as he backed Jett up against the door, giving him no more room to backpedal. Once it reached that point his palms slammed onto the wall either side of Jett’s head, trapping him between the door and the Prussian.

“That face…it pisses me off.”  
Jett glared up at the older nation that had him backed up into a corner in his own house. Had he come here to start a fight? Jett’s fist formed tightly, if this guy wanted a brawl he’d be happy to oblige.  
_Give me a reason to punch this guy._

“Sorry my face is so unappealing.” Jett growled lowly in the back of his throat. He waited for Prussia to give him more of a reason to strike him.  
_Come on…give me one reason. Just one will do._

Prussia reached out suddenly to grab hold of his chin with his icy cold hand.  
_That’ll do it!_

Jett’s fist snapped out, aiming to connect with Prussia’s face and much to Jett’s pleasure it did. Prussia’s hand released his jaw and the male fell back away from him, stumbling to keep his own balance.  
However it was a short lived victory.  
As Jett moved forward to follow up with another hit Prussia had recovered and almost effortlessly caught his fist.

For a brief second their gaze’s locked. Prussia’s harsh gaze staring into green eyes and in those narrowed crimson orbs Jett could see what it was Prussia held under that obnoxious behaviour of his. In there under all his awesome bullshit was still a fighter.  
There was the great nation he’d heard tale of.

Prussia was faster than Jett had first thought him to be, catching Jett’s fist and twisting it back around roughly, trying to get the Australian in a lock. Jett only managed to tangle himself up all the more when he tried to grab hold of the white haired male, his clumsy actions having him end up face first on the ground, hands pinned to his back and legs uselessly caught beneath the elder nation’s body.

Jerking with constant growls and grunts Jett tried to free himself from the hold but only succeeded in having Prussia push his arms further up his back, increasing the pain and making it harder to move.  
Still he didn’t quiet down, glaring back at the other lost nation, green eyes burning with a fire he hadn’t felt in a while.

“Hmpf, that’s a little better.” Prussia smirked above him but spoke of approval. “That expression you had before was ghastly. I like this look much better. Ja…a look of defiance and fire suits you much more than self loathing and regret.”

Suddenly his limbs were freed, the German releasing him and climbing back to his feet. Jett sat up as well, staring at the albino, bewildered by his actions. In the next moment the hand that had restrained him was offered before his face, a helping hand to stand and the male grinned.

“You got quite a punch there, not as awesome as mein but….good enough.”  
After a small hesitation Jett reached out and allowed himself to be helped up by Prussia. Still smiling Prussia hardly saw the next hit coming before it landed in his gut.

 _Gut_. Gil thought even as he bent over around Jett’s offending fist gasped for air. _I needed some fun anyway._

 

…  
… _One_ non _-brotherly bashing later._  
…

 

Panting the two nations found themselves each collapsed on a lounge opposite the other.  
the two both wore the forming bruises of a violent fight, neither feeling the need to go easy on the other as they essentially just used one another as stress relief for roughly half an hour.  
At the very least no bones had been broken or feelings hurt, not as much could be said about bloodshed.

“Keseses….” Gilbert laughed breathlessly while whipping some blood from his busted lip. “Feeling better?” He asked while looking over at the smiling Australian, he seemed much more at ease after a small punch up.

“You know it mate…” Jett laughed back before groaning as he forced his aching body to sit forward. Resting his arms on his knees Jett studied the Prussian for a while, his smiling not fading. “Been a while since someone called me ugly outright.”

“Well your face isn’t nearly as awesome as my sexy self. But…” He added, pointing one finger in the air lazily though he didn’t sit up like Jett had, reaming sprawled on the lounge lazily. “I didn’t say you were ugly, just that expression you had.”

‘ _Ja…a look of defiance and fire suits you much more than self loathing and regret_.’ Jett remembered him having said something like that but he’d been too pissed to really process it at the time.

“Prussia. Why are you here? I mean…seriously what do you want?” Jett asked his smile fading to a frown, he had been confused as to why he showed up in the first place but after this he knew the nation had a damn good reason for showing. If he wanted stress relief through a punch up Jett was always happy to oblige but that didn’t seem to be the case this time around.

For a while Prussia didn’t respond, instead opting for silence as he gathered both his breath and thoughts.  
“The truth is I’ve been meaning to speak with you for a while. When I found out mein bruder had approached you…I decided I’d better see you. Of course West told me all about you after the meeting, had to force it out of him but the awesome me gets what he wants! Keseses.” When Jett didn’t laugh or smile Prussia’s own smile faded and he finally sat forward.

“Bruder told me about you and how you came here but that’s not what I wanted to hear about. I usually wouldn’t go about poking around other nations but with what I’ve been seeing I figured I should. I was just going to chat with you today, just assess the situation but I walk in here and see you talking to your little bruder…I couldn’t ignore it.”

Sighing Prussia shook his head and glanced up at the ceiling. “When I saw your face and the way you reacted around him…and I saw that gott damned expression I couldn’t take it. I had to get you a little roughed up.”

“Why would my expression piss you off anyway?” Jett asked, wondering just how the hell he was having this kind of conversation with the self proclaimed awesomeness of the world. Prussia had never looked serious a day in his life to Jett and while Jett wouldn’t call this quite serious there was a definite maturity to the Prussian that was eerily uncommon.

“Because it was the face that mein baby bruder use to make.” Jett jerked his head up slightly when Prussia said that, a bitterly sad smile on his face as he spoke. “And the face I use to make. It’s an ugly face.”

“Prussia…” Jett began to speak but was cut off by the other’s laughter, that annoying Keseses sound.

“Mein name is Gilbert, use it. It’s an awesome name for the awesome me so use it. Now!” He declared, some of his old spirit returning as he made a fist with a determined face. “Make us some of that awful English tea and I’ll tell you a tale!”

“No way.” _Blunt_.

“Hey! Even after the awesome me was ready to part with some history.” Prussia grumbled before grinning once more. “You don’t get a choice! The awesome Gilbert always gets what he wants. Now make us some of that deadly English tea!”

For what reason Jett got up and did as the pushy Prussian asked he couldn’t even begin to fathom. Perhaps he was interested in what ‘tale’ he had to tell or maybe it was because Prussia reminded Jett a little bit of a more annoying Chris.  
Perhaps he should kill him just for that.  
Well the tea might just do the job for him.

 

…  
…

 

“So what’s this grand tale you’re harping on about?” Jett asked as he set the steaming cup of tea in front of Prussia. “I’m not interested but I having a feeling you’re going to tell it anyway.”

“It’s the tale of an awesome warrior and his little bruder!” Gilbert declared even as he leant forward to inspect the tea, ever cautious of English food products, even the drinks.

“What? You mean you and-“ Jett began but was cut off by an angry Prussia.

“Nein! Nein! This is the story about two other boys.” _Sure it was…._  
“Alright now listen up good, the awesome me is going to part with some great legend for you!” Prussia cleared his throat and began and even though Jett already knew the story…he listened all the same.

 

…  
…  
…

 

 _Arg…it hurts._  
Shit…this is so bad.  
So very bad….

_Gott…so unawesome!_

In the snow there was blood, the red easily staining the white all around.  
The white snow, pale milky flesh and colourless hair, all of it was stained red.  
With a soft groan the body that lay flat in the snow began to shift and slowly raise up. It was the only body to raise amongst a sea of lifeless forms in the snow.

As the single person managed to pull himself from the icy land and look around all he saw was the red staining the purity of the snow. Red had been such a beloved colour, proud for him and his people but now all it brought in its wake of misery and failure.  
If he had not been so proud…if he had not been so heavily relied on the red hued nation might had shed tears from his impure red eyes.

Slowly he was able to stand on shaking legs, weak and injured he still had the power to get back on his feet. That resilience would do him no good when they discovered him, he’d no doubt be obligated on that day.  
“Everything…all of it…it’s entirely gone.” The words spurred a great surge of grief and rage within the standing nation. Why? Why had things turned out this way after all this time how had they really been forced to this pitiful state.

The rage that boiled up within him reached tipping point and the male screamed, his voice tearing out across the silence of the once active battlefield. It echoed back to him, the only sound returning to him the echo of his anguish.

“Bruder…” The cry was soft but loud enough to fill the standing nations form with energy. There was life, there was hope and there was still his little baby brother. Turning on those clumsy unbalanced legs the white haired nation ran towards the sound of the softly calling voice.

There laying in the snow was the broken form of his little brother. Falling down to his knees the man worked to remove all the ice and snow from his body.  
He smiled, smiled so much it hurt and he found himself crying as he held his brother’s freezing form to his chest.  
Oh his brother, his precious little brother was still alive. Everything could be well in the world if his brother did just live.

Gasping softly he felt a weak hand clutch at his clothes, desperately holding onto his elder brother’s warmth, desperately trying to keep close and stay breathing.  
“Bruder….” He whispered quietly, voice thin and breath coming in sharp shallow intakes. He was alive but only just.

Clutching his most precious one close the male allowed tears to flow freely where he could not see. Joy did make one cry from time to time.

“Ja, Ja…big bruder is here. Bruder is here. Everything is fine now Ludwig.” Even though he made those promises there was nothing fine about their current position. Other than the small gift that was both of their lives there was nothing else in this place that could be considered anything other than hell.

“What is this?” At the sound of an overly unwelcome but familiar voice Prussia’s voice tensed up. Not a moment later rough hands took hold of his shoulders and arms, pulling him away from his little brother ignoring his shouts and struggles.

“It’s best you don’t struggle, da?” Prussia snarled, bearing his teeth at the nation that had pulled him away from Ludwig in the first place. “You lost.” Russia told him, smiling in that pleasantly sick way of his that made Prussia’s insides twist painfully.

“Russia…I’ll kill you!” Prussia shouted at the opposing nation even as he spat out a mouthful of his own blood. Still he struggled against his restraints. Watching with narrowed eyes as another figure walked past both he and Russia to the form of his fallen brother.

_Click_

Gilbert’s eyes went wide when he saw the gun pointed towards his kneeling brother’s back, the weapon held in the steady hands of America.  
_Nein…nein….nein, nein, nein!_ Gilbert became unruly once again, kicking and pushing at those that tried to hold him back.  
“Halt! Nein, halt!” He shouted but his pleas were falling on deaf ears at the gun came to rest against Ludwig’s head. “Bitte!”

Behind both Gilbert and Russia the rest of the allies stood in silence. None of them were going to speak up to try and stop this, they intended to end the war with Ludwig’s blood.  
Prussia’s eyes widened when he caught a single glance of his little Ludwig’s face, seeing the broken expression he wore was too much for the nation to bare. Even if he was shot, even if he had to break his bones to do it he would break away from those that held him and run for his brother.

Doing just that he was able to escape the hands that had held him and run towards the American and Ludwig, hand reaching out at he again shouted for them to stop. Gilbert threw himself before his brother’s fallen form, guarding him with his body as he glared at the man holding the gun.

“Don’t hurt mein bruder!” He shouted. “I’ll go if you need someone to execute. Leave mein bruder be…he’s still just kinder!” There was no emotion on the gun wielding nations face, none at all and Gilbert knew why. A comment about how America wouldn’t understand the love of one brother to another almost passed his lips but he kept his silence, trying to protect Ludwig.

“Ivan…?” England spoke as the Russian walked forward, his bloody pipe still held tightly and stained with blood from his fighting with Gilbert and Ludwig but the great nation continued to smile that eerie sweet smile of his as he approached.

“What is it?” America asked coldly, not lowering his gun as Russia approached.

“I like this deal.” Ivan said happily. “I take Prussia, in exchange for the other. A good deal, da?”

“Are you sure?” France asked quietly. “That you want to take Prussia with you Ivan…?”

“Da.” Gilbert stared up at the man who had beaten him senseless with that pipe earlier, nothing but hatred reflecting in his eyes as he clung tightly to Ludwig. “I rather enjoy that crying voice of yours sunflower.” Gilbert grit his teeth, arms tightening around his brother.. “A deal, da?”

“Ja…” Gilbert agreed before suddenly his arms were snatched up by Russia, prying him away from Ludwig.

“The Allies will be responsible for Germany now.” England walked forward, placing a hand on Alfred’s gun to finally lower it. “The war is over.” Alfred didn’t say a word as he stalked away, the war had affected them all negatively after all.

“Come away now sunflower.” Russia began to pull Gilbert away from his broken brother. Leaving the younger nation with the surrounding allies but Gilbert could not break away now, Russia’s hold being ten times stronger than the men that had held him before.

“N-Nei…n….bru…der….” Gilbert just Heard the broken cry and looked back towards Ludwig, the other nation reaching out for his brother but his body to broken for him to reach him. “Don’t….go…bit…te…” He pleaded weakly but Prussia knew already that it was impossible. This was the best possible outcome to this scene.

“Oh come on. Don’t make such a pitiful face bruder, make a face like this!” And so for his little bruder who was so afraid the great nation of Prussia grinned as if to reassure him everything would be alright.

“Make that face when I see you next. Got it? We’ll see each other again just you wait and see!” Even as he was bound by chains the Prussia waved over his shoulder at West before he was taken away from him.  
He’d not let his brother see him weep…he’d do anything to keep him safe and smiling so even though he knew his life was forfeited to Russia he still smiled.

He remembered something that he had told Ludwig when he was just a boy.  
_“I smile because I’m your big bruder! And I laugh because you can’t do anything to change that, keseses.”_

So Prussia would just keep on smiling for his little brother and laughing at him, until the day that he finally did stop breathing.

 

…  
…

 

“I knew it was you and Germany.”  Jett cut in while taking a sip of his tea, it was sweet and more sugar than it was milk, more milk than it was water.

“Oi! Don’t interrupt the awesome me!” Prussia shouted in horror, hands slamming down on the table before he sat back with a grumble and crossed his arms. “Alright fine, so it was me and bruder…”

“More to the point I know this story.” Jett continued while looking down at his cup. Prussia looked surprised but Jett ignored him as he continued.

“After Prussia and Germany were split Prussia went into Russia’s care in his little brother’s place.” Jett recited the story he’d heard a hundred times over without looking away from his cup.  
“It was many years that the two were separated by the wall and from what was said neither brother was treated kindly in that time…” Jett’s gaze travelled to his hands as he thought. “Germany was scorned by the allies and Prussia a prisoner to Russia. It must have been hell.”

There was a small pause before Jett looked up at Prussia who’s red eyes were staring at him as though he’d just dropped from the sky. It was their history, of course Jett knew it.  
“However East and West Germany are reunited and the wall is removed from the equation. Brothers are together again…and that’s that. I know the story, I’ve read it over and over again. There’s no need for you to tell me yourself.”

“Ah, so that’s how it is.” Prussia’s smirk returned and he sat back in his seat lazily. “That’s all well and good book boy but did any of your books you read tell you about those two brother’s faces?” Jett’s expression dropped slightly as he looked at Prussia, his question catching him off guard.

“I imagine they cried.” Jett answered finally, but his tone came out cautious and unsure in an answer he knew to be right.

“Ja, cry they did.” Prussia confirmed before leaning forward with a cool smirk. “But did they mention the lingering expressions? The way the younger would stare, so guilt ridden for his failure to protect the other or the way the eldest would wake in night screaming from what he still remembered and could not forget?”

Jett had no words for this, he had no text book answer or history lesson to tell him. There was nothing but Prussia’s word in this moment.

“Did your books tell you of the days those two bruders as kinder would spend their days together or of the adventures they shared? Would your history lessons tell you of the moments in which they would shout or strike one another for their people and beliefs and the times they’d do anything to guard the other?” Prussia’s smirk grew as he watched Jett’s face.

“Of course not.” He murmured, satisfied with the younger nation’s silence. “Your big bruder wouldn’t tell you about that lingering expression even though he’s worn it himself.” Jett’s grip on the cup tightened and he feared it might break but still no words came from him, there was nothing that came to mind.

“Tell you what little boy.” Prussia continued snickering as he did. “I’ll let you in on a small secret seeing as you’re so stiff and stubborn. The awesome me has made _that_...-“ He lifted his hand to point at Jett’s face lazily at the word. “…- expression.”

“What face am I making then?” Jett demanded, having had enough of this dancing around. “What’s so fucking wrong with my expression?”

“I told you before, it’s ugly.” Prussia reminded him simply. “Looking at the face that holds such guilt and self loathing makes me sick.” Resting his feet up on the table Prussia continued with an agitated growl.

“I don’t know what you think you’ve done to that kinder but you’re only causing yourself to suffer. If he notices that, you’ll hurt him as well.” Prussia explained. “Whatever it is that you’re whinging about you should let it go-“

“It’s not the same!” Jett shouted and Prussia flinched, becoming silent at the words. As he looked at the Australian with his head bowed and hands tightly gripping the cup that was beginning to crack Prussia sighed. He looked so similar to Ludwig in that moment, that guilt that gnawed on him reminding Gilbert of his bruder’s own suffering.

“What happened between you and Germany is nothing like what went between me and Christian…! Nothing at all like it. How could you possibly know anything about-” Jett paused in his shouting and looked up at Prussia. “So that’s why you’re here? You came here to hear about that…?”

“Slow but not a complete loser.” Prussia laughed in approval. “Go on then! Spill your guts out to me, I started so now it’s your turn bush boy.”

 _So that was it huh?_  
Jett frowned his grip on the cup easing off slightly. Prussia had come in here not to hear about what Germany wanted to hear but to hear about his and Chris.  
That’s why he’d started talking about him and Germany, to try and make Jett more willing to share in return.

Sensing the other nation’s resistance Prussia huffed in annoyance.“Come on, it’s not like it’s a secret.” Gilbert hesitated, rethinking that comment. “Or at least, only a secret to Chris. He doesn’t remember does he?”

Slowly Jett shook his head. No, Chris remembered nothing but other nations did. Thankfully they all knew to keep their big mouths shut or they just didn’t care enough to talk about their little history.

“Well, tell the awesome me!” Prussia jerked his thumb into his chest with the usual obnoxious grin. “We’ll share bleeding hearts or some shit!”

“Fine.” Jett allowed with a sly smirk. “But if I speak about that you’ll tell me about you and Russia one day.” Prussia’s expression became a scowl.

“That’s low you little shit. Pah! Fine, have it your way. Now get bleeding.” He waved his hand at Jett, urging him to begin.

Taking a deep breath Jett closed his eyes and thought carefully about what he had to say. Would he really tell this other nation everything? Prussia and he had things in common it was true, their not being true nations anymore counting for a lot in that but at the same time Jett wasn’t about to skip with Prussia in a field of flowers or something.

“Alright fine….I guess we’ll get right to the island.”

 

 _(And here begins my favourite part of the day, flash back time! :D)_  
…  
… (Roughly between  1787 and 1891)

 

“Hello? _Hello_? Is anybody out there?” Jett called and called. He screamed till his voice was hoarse and he was left alone on this contemptible little island with nothing other than the roar of the ocean and his screams.

He was a fool, screaming for somebody to come and save him at the top of his lungs as though they’d really come. He’d always lived under his big brother Arthur, always relied on him for life and love but now there was nothing but this harsh landscape and a vast desert of sea between him and any other country.

It was only him on this pitiful little rock.

The voyage to his new home had come to an end and he was greeted with a land that met all expectations. It was harsh and it was dangerous, those that had come with him remained in chains as they fought to build their new land. Jett himself was bound more than the humans, even without shackles and chains he could not escape while the people were bound.

He’d never been more alone.  
Even in the times that England ignored him he’d always had Mattie there or at least some brief moments with England but here it was just him standing alone in an alien world with no one to turn to.

Feeling overwhelmed by the hopelessness of his situation Jett had fallen to his knees. The rough ground bitting into his flesh as his hands came up to press against his eyes, under his palms the sting of his still fresh scar could be felt but even then he couldn’t stop himself from weeping and allowing the salty tears to burn him further.

 _I want to go home._ Jett thought miserably but at the same time there was a more disheartening thought.  
_Where is home?_

“Hello?” Jett’s head jerked up from his knees and he turned to face the source of the voice. He saw a boy, not much younger than himself. The lad was not dressed properly and his skin was darker than his own.  
Jett stared up at the boy that had found him for the longest time in silence, the two young boys looking back at one another as if surprised to see that another person could possibly exist in their worlds.

The mystery boy moved first and finally broke the tension. Holding out his hand he displayed a caught fish to Jett and his face turned into a bright and welcoming smile.

“Hello stranger!”

That had been how Jack Kirkland met the young man that would become his little brother. It was innocent enough and for a while that was all it was. Jett reached out and took the other boy’s hand and for a while it wasn’t so lonely on that damned island.

The work was harsh and the treatment even harsher. They were not on holidays after all, day in and out he and the rest of his ‘kind’ had to work. But at the same time the days he spent with the native boy were…well good. Jett smiled around the other nation and he quickly learned about the nature of his new home and just what he had to do to survive it through his new friend’s teachings.

He listened to tales of other friendly nations that would visit to trade. Most often he heard of a young girl and according to his new friend she was his best friend. The girl was named Kirana and she was the nation of Indonesia.  
He promised that one day Jett would meet her as well and they’d all be the best of friends.  
Jett wondered what type of girl it would be that was so friendly with this nation, perhaps they’d really become close and this prison would begin to feel homely.

In the days that he found himself being pushed roughly into the dirt by the officers that reigned over them Jett would always find the native boy waiting for him from some hidden corner or tree top.  
Peeking slyly around from his hiding place at Jett and smiling as he waved and it was on those days that he slipped away from his ‘duties’ to the English cause and spent his time laughing and running with the other that Jett truly forgot what he was.

But he was still the convict colony of Australia even when he forgot.  
At first Jett hadn’t realised exactly what that would mean.  
He didn’t realise instantly what would become of his relationship with the native nation.  
He was a fool, an ignorant fool.

“Jack.” Jett flinched at the calling of his original name that he had thrown away in favour for the name Jett. Having taken it from one of the young convicts that had died some time before and had been considerably friendly to him. Jett turned from his grubby work to look at the officer that called him. “  
There’s a message for you.” Jett frowned, for the most part he was just made to work with the rest but on this occasion he was being called indoors to receive some kind of message.

“What is it?” He asked while wiping his feet on the mat, well aware of what would happen if he tracked filth into civilised living.  
The officer that had lead him in turned holding a letter in hand and immediately Jett recognised the symbol of his big brother England imprinted in red ink on the front.

“A message from the father land.” Jett could hardly believe his eyes. His breath hitched in his throat as he stared at the smooth envelope. It had been so long since he’d even thought of his traitorous big brother and even longer since he had contact with him.

 _What could he want…?_ Jett wondered as his fingers closed around the letter. Some stupid part of him wondered if maybe this would be a letter expressing regret or even offering him passage home. Naturally it was neither.  
Once he tore open the seal of his brother Jett found inside nothing more than instructions.

“What….?” Jett’s hand froze as he read it over carefully before looking at those present in the room. “Further colonisation? But the men are already working at their breaking point. Anymore and there’d be no point!” He exclaimed angrily. “Moreover he wants more land to be cleared for…farming? But if we take anymore land we’ll be taking away the hunting ground for the natives and the animals that we’re introducing are already flattening the land!”

Jett was fuming. After all this time his brother had only sent him more worries and frustrations. Much to his shock an officer by him scoffed when he mentioned the natives.

“The savages? They’re already heavily over populated and uneducated. They’re hardly humans lad.” Jett could not believe what he was hearing. The smiling face of his only friend on this god forsaken rock flashed into his mind and in the next moment Jett lost all reason.

His fist connected with the officer’s gut, forcing all the air from his lungs followed by his knee jamming up even harder into his body, causing the poor bastard to lose all of his lunch from his stomach onto the ground next. As the man gagged and spluttered as Jett stood over him with a glare fit for the convict nation he’d been titled as.

“What the fuck was that…?” He growled down at the pitiful officer. Nations were not meant to harm humans, it was a simple rule but all the same Jett lashed out without thinking. Nation or human, it all meant nothing to him. That bastard had annoyed him.

Still he was very much a prisoner and before he had the chance to do anymore damage other officers were on him. Grabbing hold of all his limbs while struggling to tie his hands and restrain the fighting nation. Jett didn’t fight too hard, he had only wanted to hit the bastard once or twice and before long he found himself completely bound by the Englishmen.

That night was a long and agonising night in the pits.  
The pits were simple enough. If a convict misbehaved he was thrown down into the pits for however long the officers deemed fit. Things like rats and spiders all scuttled around in the dark space and while the sun was up the prisoner was baked with no shade to take cover in and when the sun set they froze in the dark little hole.  
It was painful and lonely but Jett did not regret his actions. Some part of his mind agreed with those officers, the part England had raised told him that his new friend was too unclean and too animal like but at the same time that ‘animal’ showed more kindness and care than any of those English bastards would.

Curling into a ball in the pit Jett allowed himself to slip away into sleep. If a rat chewed off his toe or a spider scuttled up under his shirt he didn’t mind. After all…animals were only as malicious as their stomaches demanded they be and only as defensive as required.  
Besides it could be worse, they could have lashed him as well.  
Always the optimist.

A soft scuttling up above the pit alerted Jett to someone else’s arrival and he wasn’t surprised in the least when he saw the familiar dark figure of his new friend peering down at him from under the moon.

“Ha…hey.” Jett smiled up at him with a little wave, feeling almost embarrassed that he’d been tossed down in the pit for his friend to pity him.  
What did surprise him was when a stick was slowly pushed down into the pit and held out waiting for him. Jett hesitated, looking between the offered way out and his friend who looked at him expectantly.

“Heh, thanks mate…” Jett murmured as he got up, grabbing onto the stick as he tried to climb out of the pit. His feet slipped slightly and he feared the stick would break but thankfully the thing stayed steady as he cautiously climbed his way up and out.

Just as he was about to take the last step the loose gravel came away and he lost his footing. Jett cried out in alarm as he began to fall back but something snagged his hand and stopped his fall.  
Opening one eye to cautiously peer up he saw the other nation holding onto his hand tightly, having caught him before he could fall.

With a joined effort the two boys were able to pull Jett free of the pit and onto safe ground. Jett collapsed flat onto his back on the ground panting as his friend bent over with hands on his knees just about as tired as Jett.  
Their eyes caught tone another and their pants turned to laughter.

That night both native Australian and convict ran into the bush land to play, putting all thoughts of colonisation and the English behind them.  
At least for one more night it was okay.

 

...  
… (Roughly 1880 to 1901)  
...

 

Things were getting rough again. Jett was struggling to survive, in the years that had passed their island home had become more welcoming and lived in but new problems had risen up.  
Most painfully being the severe depression that he had fallen into. Jett spent most of his days locked up in a dark room trying desperately just to breathe.

The depression was effecting the people just as much as it was their nation but Jett could still see who copped in the worst. The nobles were getting by alright but the convicts and the natives were the ones suffering. Still Jett couldn’t so much as lift a finger to fight for them this time. His own land had him bedridden.

He had fever dreams while ill he saw the hanging of the notorious bush ranger Ned Kelly the most though. He felt bad when thinking about the bucket wearing son of a bitch. He’d been an outlaw a criminal, no one would deny that but on the day he’d been hung those words had struck Jett through.

They’d stood there on the day he would be hung and Jett couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret and remorse. He remembered when he’d been bound up like the bush ranger was now but he also remembered he’d broken down and screamed for his brother to help him but the bush ranger did nothing of the sort.

Instead he had looked right at the people gathered and had uttered words that Jett would never forget.

“ _Such is life_.” Those words often came back to him in his feverish dreams during the depression. If he’d been able to…perhaps the bush ranger would not have hung. He was no hero and even though he was romanticised by the women and young lads…the bush rangers were very much criminals but still Jett had a soft spot for them and Ned Kelly had been his favourite.

Even some years after the hanging the naming of New Kelly was banned to young boys, Jett thought it was silly but sure enough there were no more Ned Kelly boys running around after the bush ranger’s death.  
“They’re…fucking weak…” Jett had panted into his pillow, the fever stopping him from doing much else. “Too…sensitive… It’s just a bloody name….” Jett was a little bit of a hypocrite.

“Jack Kirkland?” Jett’s new boss stood in the doorway. “Your brother has sent something for you. He heard you were ill so he’s sent you a gift.”

Jett could hardly believe his ears but when he sat up in the bed to receive the ‘gift. Sure enough there was his brother’s hand written letter and inside the envelope lay a delicate little pendant.  
Immediately Jett was out of bed, stumbling to his dresser to try and find the chain that he’d gotten not too long ago. Crying out in victory he produced the single silver chain with a carved stone pendant hanging off the end along with a smaller and smoother carved bone ornament.

The chain held a gift from both the aboriginal nation and the newly formed nation of New Zealand. The three of them having become good friends and this being a gift from both of the boys to Jett. Unclipping the chain he slid England’s glass pendant onto it as well. Now it held a symbol of all three nations, stone for the native, bone for Zea and glass for England. Just looking at it was making Jett smile faintly as he held it close.  
However Jett still profusely refused to wear it but he ended up keeping it with him all the same, slipping it into his pocket of his jacket so that no one would guess what it was he had.

What was more surprising to Jett was that in the coming days his brother began to contact him more often. Slowly their colonisation was growing larger, they were beginning to build a real place to live and even a few civilians had made the voyage over, even though Jett did struggle through the depression there was still the occasional helping hand from his brother.

England would send him letters and at first they were only orders but as he began to respond some of England’s letters contained direct questions.  
Questions about the conditions, questions about what it was he did most days…just normal questions a big brother would ask the younger when he was gone.

Jett had rejected to answer him at first, still able to feel the sting of the betrayal but as the questions continued and the letters became less formal Jett found himself unable to resist.  
He responded to Arthur finally.

After that Jett could feel something warm stirring inside of him. He and Arthur spoke through letters once in a while and even though it was stiff and cautious there was some kind of family bond there. Despite himself Jett no longer corrected people when they called him Jack and he found himself being a little more accepting around the officers.

Perhaps some of this relationship could be salvaged?  
Even if England’s more subtle orders in the letters were becoming more savage.

Jett no longer ran off with his friend into the bush at night or went hunting from time to time, instead their contact had dwindled almost to nothing and it took Jett quite some time to realise that this had happened.

The day that he did Jett immediately took himself out into the bush land that he most often found his friend.  
It took some time and some calling but eventually the two boys met up again, it was not like before however. There was a certain distrust between the two, not just from the original Australian to the colony but also from the English boy to the native.

It didn’t vanish easily either, they were cautious around one another but at the same time the two were friends and through all of their uncertainty that still played through and finally the two of them returned to normal.

“I’m going to make things better for us.” Jett had told his friend one afternoon after they’d finished exploring and digging up witchetty grubs, which Jett profusely refused to try.  
Turning to him his friend had asked just what he intended to do, using a stick in the dirt to draw out his question.

“The English colony and the aboriginal population are going to get along.” Jett said brightly while turning to smile towards his curious friend. “We’ll be working together and living together. You can teach us about your dream time stories and show us how to hunt and manage the land properly. In exchange we can bring medicine and literature. My big brother is telling me all about the wonders he will be sending over soon. He’s promised to make this place perfect for living in.”

The two of them had smiled together and holding out his hand to his friend Jett waited expectantly. It took the native a while to figure out what he was supposed to do with the arm that was held up with a made fist. Making a fist himself the young aboriginal nation bumped his arm against Jett’s and the two laughed. Neither one of them thought for a second just what type of ‘perfect’ living conditions the English truly meant.

“I’m home.” Jett called while walking into his house. It was still fairly small when compared to other nations and other human’s home in general but things had been improving.  
His brother must have been forgiving him because he was slowly given more and more freedom within the nation and slowly his brother had been sending him things to make life easier.

“Welcome back.” His boss greeted him with a faint smile while holding a candle in one hand to light up the dark house. Jett kinda liked this boss, he didn’t seem half as harsh as the others but still he did his best not to anger him on purpose.  
“You’re back late.” He commented and Jett smiled sheepishly. He’d been out playing in the bush with the aboriginals but he couldn’t tell his boss that.

“Got distracted by a cat.” He lied before noticing something odd. The light in the study room was still on and the sun had long since set meaning that the lights were usually all out in Jett’s home. His boss followed his gaze and smiled all the more.

“We have a guest.” The man told him smoothly before stepping out of his way. Jett cautiously walked down the hall and came to stand outside of the study where a warm light was seeping out around the slightly opened door.  
It was then that Jett smelt the unmistakable scent of tea and scones. His body locked up for a split second, struggling to come to terms with what should have been impossible.

But after that momentary hesitation Jett’s body lunged for the door, throwing it wide open and revealing his brother waiting inside patiently.  
Britain sat with his legs neatly crossed, tea cup in hand and book on his lap in the study. He looked up when Jett came flying in and a warm smile came onto his face.

“Why are you always so late Jack?” Arthur asked him warmly while closing the book with a gentle little snap. Jett couldn’t speak, he didn’t know what to say. His big brother, who he still could not decide if he despised or not, was sitting in his house as though it were his own. In a sense it was sure but that wasn’t exactly the point.

“Confused?” Arthur chuckled before standing from his seat, the elegance and poise that Jett remembered still present in his brother’s actions. “Isn’t the answer obvious?” He asked quietly as he came to stand in front of Jett, still easily taller than the teen bodied nation.

Jett shook his head from side to side bit by bit, too shocked by the appearance of the great nation to act quickly. Arthur merely smiled at his little brother’s reply and reached out for him, arms coming to wrap around Jett gently.

“I’ve come to visit you of course. My little brother.” Arthur’s soft voice caused Jett to forget everything. He forgot why he hated his brother, why it was he stole off during the day and came home late and night…Jett forgot everything except the fact that his big brother was here and holding him.

Without thinking properly Jett’s arms wrapped tightly around Arthur’s middle and the elder nation rest one hand on his little brother’s head.

“I’ve missed you to Jack.” He promised quietly. “I’ve been so worried about you on this cruel island with all these animals so I thought I’d best come and make sure you were safe with my own eyes.” Jett was silent, merely clinging onto his brother tightly and letting his soothing voice speak to him.

“I’m not happy though. This place is not right for me or my precious brother. Don’t you worry though, big brother will take care of everything Jack so just do as I say this time. Can you do that Jack?” Jett nodded against his brother’s chest, not stopping to think just what it was he might actually be asked to do. He full heartedly trusted what England had told him in his letters.  
He full heartedly believed in the promise he made to his friend.

Jett learned the truth of England’s interests fairly soon after that however.

 

…  
…  
...

 

“I’m confused!”  Gilbert all but yelled the words, causing Jett’s eye to twitch as he looked up at the unruly albino. “If you and your gott damn bruder made up so great why you hissing and spitting at him now?”

“If you just let me _finish_ , you annoying little shit…” Jett began angrily.

“You need to be pinned down again for a bit?” Prussia offered casually.

“You need another bruise on your face?” Jett shot back with a grin and the two nations had a brief staring contest before Jett noticed something.

“You didn’t drink any of your tea. What not game enough to try anything that England likes?” Jett challenged, putting Gilbert’s pride in danger. Immediately the Prussia was on the defence.

“I just forgot about the stuff is all!”

“Oh. So you wouldn’t mind if I made you another one?” Jett asked, his voice sickly sweet as he watched the pale faced Gilbert go green.

“Sure. Do what you want. Keseses, the awesome me can eat anything that England has!” Prussia crowed bravely but Jett’s smirk only grew.

“Anything he says?” He saw the way Gilbert’s form tensed, regretting his choice of words. “In that case I’ll bring out some scones.” If there was anything in the world that sent all nations running it was England’s scones and Jett enjoyed the look of terror that came over Gilbert’s face.

Served him right, interrupting him so rudely. Though Jett had interrupted him earlier to… but they had already established Jett was a hypocrite.  
Standing Jett moved towards the kitchen ignoring Gilbert’s protests about working too hard in a desperate attempt to stop this madness.

“No, no, it’s no trouble at all Gilbert.” Jett told him happily, that cruelly sweet smile remaining on his face the whole time as he prepared the scones and tea. This time he’d make sure to watch Gilbert eat and drink.  
In the dining room Gilbert was trying the window, maybe he could just jump and kill himself now!

“Ahh, gott!” Gilbert cursed under his breath, if he ran away now his pride would be ruined. He had to prove how awesome he was! There was no one more awesome than he! So reluctantly and fearfully he seated his butt back down and waited for his poisonous English food.

A few minutes later Jett returned with a tray and a sweet smile plastered all over his face. Gott, he looked too much like that Russian!  
Setting down the torture device of choice Jett sat opposite Gilbert and watched him with predatory eyes, wanting to see just what would happen. Perhaps the Prussian would run away? That’d be a laugh.

Gulping Gilbert took up his tea, knowing from West that the stuff was the least deadly thing and to some even a nice beverage. It wasn’t strictly English after all…so it should be fine, right?  
Steeling himself Gilbert stared down at the milky substance before going in head first and taking a whole mouthful. Jett watched with a lazy grin as Gilbert’s face turned bright red and he began screaming inside of his own mouth and fanning himself.

“It’s hot.” Jett said nonchalantly in an innocent tone as the opposite nation forced himself to swallow the scolding liquid. Panting Gil collapsed back on the lounge and flipped Jett off causing the Aussie to laugh.

“Screw you…” Gilbert breathed watching through narrowed slits as Jett more responsibly blew on his tea to cool it before taking small sips.

“We’re not done.” Jett added casually while enjoying his own tea. “The scones are there for you to.” He nodded down to the plate of bread like food items. Gilbert looked as well, his entire being filling with dread. He’d seen those before, they’d caused Italy to cry many times about how awful they were and even West refused to touch the stuff.

Still…his awesome pride was on the line and the damned Australian was watching him with that smug ass face. So shakily Gilbert took up a scone in his hand, he’d almost expected it to burn him as well but found it was just warm.

“Wait!” He declared suddenly, causing Jett’s bushy brows to jerk up in surprise but still he looked at him with that smug look, waiting to see what excuse he had.  
“You have one first!” Prussia declared holding out the scone to Jett with a victorious smirk. “Might be poisoned!”

“Trust me I wouldn’t have to add poison for that to put you on your ass.” Jett chuckled but Prussia seemed determined to push this excuse so he took the scone from his hands.  
Gilbert watched him with a confident smirk, fully expecting him to back out.  
So he was stunned when Jett causally bit into the scone.  
What was more shocking was the fact that Jett didn’t choke and die the second he bit into it. Instead much to Gilbert’s horror Jett ate the entire scone without so much as cringing.

“H-How!?” Gilbert demanded slamming his hands down onto the table again.

“You’re going to break my table if you keep doing that...” Jett murmured, relishing in the elder’s horror. “Did you forget that we are the country that produced vegemite? I’m pretty sure I could still eat anything England made.”

Jett reached for another scone and held it out to the other with that same sly ass smile on his face. Gilbert glared, his fists clenched and teeth gnashing together. He’d been trapped.  
Taking the scone up with a snatch of his wrist Gilbert squared his shoulders and went for it much like he had the tea, quickly and bravely.

A loud chirping surprised him into stopping at a small ball of yellow feathers doe between him and the scone. The little bird taking the bite that Gilbert had tried to take.

“Gilbird!” Prussia cried in alarm as the bird fell towards the ground, looking sick from bitting the scone. The little bird fell into his owner’s hands and Gilbert fell to his knees.

“Oh Gilbird!” He cried out dramatically. “Why did you do it? Why did you have to be the awesome little hero!? Gilbird! Speak to me oh gott speak to me~~!” Jett just watched with an unamused expression as Gilbert went about his dramatic spiel.

“Are you kidding me mate…?” Sighing angrily Jett stood up walking over to Gil and his bird. “Hand ‘em here.” He held his hand out expectantly. “I’ll take care ‘o your bird.” Gilbert held his bird protectively in his hands causing Jett to roll his eyes.

“I know what I’m doing. Give the little guy to me and he’ll be right as rain.” Slowly, guardedly Gilbert handed over Gilbird and Jett nodded in approval before vanishing out the door. Gilbert waited anxiously for Jett to come back and when he did Gilbird was not with him.

“Where is he?” Gilber asked quickly when Jett walked back in.

“Oh, in the trash.” Jett told him offhandedly. He’d meant it as a joke but obviously Gilbert didn’t find it funny because Jett found himself being pushed back into the lounge by the other male’s hands grabbing the front of his clothes. When Jett looked up at the male straddling him he could see murder in those red hues, Jesus Christ! Was that what he looked like when he throttled Chris?

“Hey! Easy there mate, I was pulling your leg!” He shouted before Gilbert tried to strangle him or something. When Gilbert’s hands slowly let go of his clothes Jett continued, seeing that he wasn’t going to be murdered. “He’s up in my room resting. He might be a little sick for a while but he won’t be the first little critter to be treated here or for that reason. He’ll be fine, just like I promised.”

“It wasn’t funny.” Gilbert mumbled finally sitting back on the lounge while Jett sat up on his own end to look at the other. “I thought England’s cooking had killed mein Gilbird…”

“I don’t think his cooking has ever actually killed anyone…but I guess it wouldn’t be a stretch to think it could.” Jett allowed with a small chuckle. It was tense but eventually the two of them smiled and all ill feelings were discarded.

“But you ate it so easily… Because you were his little bruder?” Gil asked slowly, thinking it was reasonable to assume that Jett’s taste was almost as bad as Arthur’s.

“I was raised on that stuff.” Jett told Gilbert with a smile. “Pity me now?”

“Immensely.”

Again the two of them laughed. It occurred to Jett during the laughter that perhaps he’d become friends with this guy, if he could get past the huge amount of bullshit he spurted around about his awesomeness….and his annoying laugh….and annoying attitude and…okay maybe not.

“Alright seeing as you almost killed Gilbird I’d say you’d better continue spilling your guts.” Gilbert added, leaning towards Jett making him move back a little now that they were sharing a lounge. “Go on then.”

“Urg, you got it mate but know this. One day I will see you eat a scone.” He threatened.

“Not on your life.”

Jett chuckled at that and again returned to his story. Knowing that after this part things were going to get messy again.

 

…  
… (Roughly 1904.)  
...

 

“Sir…?” Jett stood in England’s office, his uniform spic and span despite his not having worn it in a while and his always being so rowdy in the mud.

“I-I’m sorry…did I hear you correctly…? The aboriginals…?” Jett tried to make sense of what he’d just been told but his mind refused to process it.

“The natives are out of control.” Without turning to face him England had said those words while staring out the window, hands clasped behind his back neatly as he gave the order.

“Bring them under control. We’ve prepared methods of controlling their population.”

Jett felt sick. His world tittered on its axis and if it had not been for his hand on the chair before him he would have fallen. England did not face him so he could not see the look of mortification on his face, he could not see the way tears began to show or how his colony bit his lip to the point of bleeding.

“Australia.” England spoke coolly. “Have I made myself clear?”

“….Crystal.”

 

…  
…

 

Out in the land Jett watched as his men gave out blankets to the aboriginal population. He watched with a slowly growing sense of dread as young men and women, whole families took the blankets and he knew that if they went to sleep with them that night...they’d die.  
The blankets had been infested with disease. The medication that England had promised now turned to disease for the natives.

Still Jett stood in silence as it happened, he knew this was merciful in a way. They’d not be bludgeoned or shot and have their skulls auctioned off to England. It was sick but it did tend to happen from time to time even though Jett tried to put a stop to the whole black market the English had set up with human remains. It’d be a natural cause that ended their lives. It was a kindness.

Jett had started to turn away when he saw something that made him freeze. A young girl, no more than a youngin’ had taken a blanket from an officer with a smile. That alone had made him hesitate, the look of an innocent child having the colony hesitate.  
Just for a second he saw the girl back in England, the one he’d thrown away his freedom for. Why had he saved that one girl if he now allowed hundreds more children die at the hands of his colony? Only to add to the pain in his chest he saw his own friend handing out the blankets, assuming that Jett’s actions could only be to aid them.  
He couldn’t handle it.

“Wait.” Jett called out turning back towards the distribution of the blankets. His friend turned to him in surprise, his wordless expression questioning Jett as he reached out and took a blanket from his arms with a nervous laugh.  
“I-I was just thinking…this doesn’t look like it’s been cleaned. I…I should wash it, there’s no point giving you dirty things r-right?”

His friend looked at him like he was mad and shook his head. A little dirt never bothered them, that was why England refused to touch them. They were filthy. Jett refused to let go of the blanket though even when he friend held his hand out for it.

“I’m sure it’s perfectly fine Jack.” Jett’s body froze up as he felt hands wrapping around him. One hand covered his eyes and the other took the blanket from him to return it to the distribution.

“B-Brother…” Jett murmured, shocked that England had caught him going back on orders.

“There’s no need to be worried Jack.” Arthur reassured him quietly while also talking to his native friend. “I’m sure these blankets will be perfectly clean.” The blanket was gone from his grip and behind Arthur’s covering hand he could not see where it was taken.

The other hand that had stolen the infected blanket from Jett now wrapped around his torso like a snake and Jett assumed that it was just him and Arthur now because his brother was whispering to him.

“Why can you never follow orders?” The question came out as a hiss against his ear. “You’re disappointing me Jack.”

Jett felt his chest tighten at his brother’s words and he bit his lip to stop from arguing with him but Arthur mistook his actions as something else entirely.

“Oh, shh, shh.” He cooed gently while holding Jett against him warmly. “Don’t weep little brother. Soon this place will be perfectly clean and become home for us.” There was a pause before Arthur asked something that caused Jett’s morals to fade and his mind to become blank. “Do you not want us to be together?”

Jett had slumped back against England at those words and with his eyes covered by his brother he could not see the victorious smirk that curled on the great British Empire’s face. His arms restricted Jett to him and his hands blinded him, Jett was ensnared in Arthur’s web. There was nothing he could do.

“You’re such a good boy Jack.” Arthur purred softly. “Now I have something I need you to do.”

 

…  
…  
...

 

He stole them.  
Each and every one was taken.  
Screaming, kicking and crying each one was snatched from their home by Jack.  
All because Arthur had asked him to.  
Jack stole their children.

Without any remorse or sense of guilt Jack had stolen a whole generation. The children that were pried from screaming mothers or dragged out of hiding places were all taken away and would become part of a better future. The future that England envisioned for this unclean island.

Even as the children sobbed and were forced to discard their old lives, families and beliefs Jack watched on pitilessly. This was for the greater good. These children were not safe living in the dirt and the filth, they would be raised properly here and be taught the correct way of living. He was not stealing a generation he was _saving_ it.

“Jett!” Jack froze at the sound of the name he’d taken for himself all that time ago. It sounded wrong to him now, he was Jack Kirkland of the English colony not Jett the out of control heathen that played in the mud and caused his brother to hate him enough to send him away.

Turning Jack saw his native friend and his eyes widened in surprise. Never before had the young boy truly spoken, the only words he’d ever said to Jack outright was ‘Hello stranger’ everything else was communicated in mostly silence. They’d communicated mostly through drawing and actions. Sure they’re written to one another before but his friend never actually opened his mouth to speak and now Jack could hear his voice…and it was painful.

Looking at the other nation Jack could see how beaten he was. The young aboriginal male was feeling the effects of their ‘ _All White Australia Policy’_ and even more strongly the loss of a whole generation.  
Ahh, but listen! Listen to how flawlessly he spoke English without having needed to be taught carefully. It was proof, proof that what Jack was doing was the right thing. He and his friend could not speak to one another properly. It was perfect.

“You’re finally here.” Jack smiled opening his arms in a welcoming way. “Isn’t this great? Soon you’ll be my little brother and England will be so pleased. This entire land is being saved!”

“Promise….promise….promise….” Jack’s smile faltered when he heard the softly whispered word from the dark skinned boy. He watched as his friend stumbled towards him, injured and slowly losing himself to the loss of his people. It caused Jack to hesitate once more. Why was his friend hurting so much when such a good thing was happening?

“Y-yes I know.” Jack tried to smile again as he walked towards the other in calm collected strides. “My promise to you. I’m keeping it see? Soon our ideal home will be born.” Jett encouraged the other, trying to get some sign of approval or happiness from the other.

“Just bare with it a little longer and you’ll be ‘right.” Jack reached out for his friend, wanting to comfort him through the transformation. “Just a little bit mo…-“

“Jack.” Hearing his name from behind him Jack turned to see that England was calling him, a stern look on his face. “Come away from there this instant. You’ll get dirty.” Jack didn’t understand at first but when he looked back at his friend he realised that his brother wanted him away from the other boy.

“B-But brother…” Jack turned to try and reason with him. After all soon they’d be a family, there was no need to push him away.

“Jack do not make me repeating myself. You’ll become filthy by mingling with their kind. Come away, now.” Arthur ordered and Jack stared at him, some of the hesitation returning when he heard that. He wasn’t filth…sure he was a little scuffed up and dirty but he was not filthy. Walking to his brother Jack tried again to again in vain reason with him.

“Brother I don’t think that he’s…filthy. He’s just taking some time to change.” Jack smiled as he spoke though the smile was a little bit nervous. “We should bring him home until he’s completely changed. Keep him safe and warm, show him how wonderful our way of living is. After all we’ll be a family one day.”

“Jack.” Arthur spoke sternly. “He’s not coming home with us.” Jack paused looking at England in confusion. Did he mean that he wouldn’t be coming home with them that day maybe…? Seeing the uncertainty in his face England spoke to dispel all doubt and confusion. “He’s never coming home with us. _Ever_.”

Jack flinched, what was his big brother saying? Surely he didn’t mean that…they were going to make the perfect world that Jack had promised his friend!

“Enemy…” Jack turned hearing his friend speak again and to his horror the boy had drawn a knife and was looking at his big brother.

“Wait…! Don’t!” He tried to stop his friend with words but the aboriginal was having none of it. He dashed at England, intending to run him through the knife.

“Jack.” England spoke calmly, calling his countries name as though he was not about to be speared through. However the knife never reached its target as the one wielding it was thrown to the ground violently. Without thinking Jack had assaulted the attacking boy on his brother’s command, grabbing hold of his throat as he pinned him down to the ground.

Jack’s eyes were wide, filled with both fear and anger. He cried even as his hands tightened around his former friend’s throat. The boy was kicking and gagging under him but still Jack couldn’t let go and it hurt him as well. But…he’d tried to kill Arthur right? That’s right…only a savage would try to kill his big brother.  
A savage like this…

The aboriginal male had more strength than Jack had expected and before he was able to react he’d been kicked away from him. Growling Jack stumbled back trying to regain his balance but when he looked up towards his friend he saw that knife was drawn again. The world turned red for Jack, his hand landed on the hilt of his machete and his blade met with the offending knife before it could land on his big brother.

“Damn you…I said _stop_!” Jack shouted, closing his eyes as he swiped the blade down towards his friend. There was a soft cry of pain from opposite him and then something warm landed on his face. Confused Jack slowly opened his eyes and looked up. The aboriginal boy’s face had been sliced open and the wound was now spilling blood.

Jack’s breath hitched in his throat as he realised that the warmth that had spilled onto him was his friend’s blood. Shakily he dropped the machete to the ground and began to step towards the bleeding nation.  
“I-I didn’t…I really didn’t mean…” He tried to explain but Arthur’s soothing hand landed on his shoulder.

“Come away now lad.” He called soothingly. “There will be time for that later.”

Eventually Jack did give up trying to explain himself and step away from his bleeding friend, still panting and shaking from head to toe with the act of attacking someone he considered his closest friend but…there was no question anymore.  
He and the native boy were enemies now, they’d fight and he’d have to bend to England’s will if Jack was to come out victorious.

“Jett….Jett….” His friend’s weak voice was calling to him but Jack turned away. He felt numb but he comforted himself with the knowledge that once all the fighting was over…they’d be together again. He’d just have to make him see, Jack would make them see.

And so the assimilation began.

 

...  
… (Roughly 1829)  
...

 

For years the stolen generation was kept from their families and the abuse of the aboriginal people only became worse. More than once Jack had to face his friend in battle and more than once he’d been forced to injure the other but Jack found he hardly ever came away with a scratch or bruise.

He never once guessed this was simply because his friend held back when he did not. He’d brought his blade down on the aboriginal nation more time than he could count but he struggled to remember a time that the other had directly assaulted him.  
Not that he tried to think about it very long.

Things continued on like this for a great deal of time…and then one day…finally it ended.

“Give up.” Jack ordered. The battle field they stood in was chaotic but slowly becoming quiet as both sides took damage…and one began to overpower the other completely.  
“Drop your weapon, the game is over!” Jack shouted to the dark skinned nation opposite him. The other was bleeding and broken and even though he appeared almost too weak to stand the stubborn nation still held onto his weapon with all his might.

“Your generation is gone, your people dwindling…it is time that you become one with us.” Jack continued, his machete in hand as he advanced on his former friend. “You will see England’s sight, you will see that this is the right way to live.”

Jack had not expected that the other nation would have any strength left in him and was taken off guard when the other attacked him, with club in had he dove at Jack almost knocking him off his feet entirely.

“Tsk, damn you!” Jack cursed angrily as he blocked majority of the blow with his machete. “How? How do you keep on fighting even when you barely have the legs to stand!?” Jack did not remember a time when he had done the same, all over a loaf of bread, far less than what this native boy fought for now. He didn’t have the body to pull through but he had the will.

“….” His friend was silent as ever as he lined up for another blow but Jack could see something forming on his tongue, an answer he was prepared to give once he found the correct English words.

Jack had been distracted by that and was knocked off his feet this time by the blow of the club. The force sending him tumbling to the dirty ground, Arthur would scold him later for allowing himself to become filthy. With a groan he made to get back up but found the other on top of him, pinning him down by the throat with his club.

Panting the two once friends sat in that position staring at one another and finally the words came to him.  
“My….people.”  Jack stopped his squirming to look up as the other spoke.  
“My home….my land….my life…my belief….this is….mine!” Jack had never heard him speak so many words in one go and even though they were few Jack found himself stunned into silence, at least for a moment.

“Then take it.” He whispered softly. “Take it from me if you believe it’s yours. Kill me here.” Jack waited, a savage would not hesitate to take his head off, that was what England had told him and he believed it.

There was silence and no movement, instead the two nations continued to stare at one another and Jack began to take notice of how badly beaten the other truly was.  
Scars and wounds both old and new littered his body. Jack remembered giving most of them to him with his own machete. He remembered how the other cried out when hit and how his face had remained stoic and uncaring while dealing out the punishing blows.  
Most of all he saw the scar running along his face, across his nose from where Jett had first slashed him. How odd…they now both had a mark like that…

“Do it…” He murmured quietly. “After all this fighting, after all of it just kill me here and take what you believe to be yours, if you’re so damn sure about it!” Jack did not want to die, he did not want to be killed…but he didn’t want to kill the other. He’d told himself he’d been prepared to do it. In fact he’d been entirely trying to do it but when it came down to the actual act he had not yet silenced the rebellious native.

The silence stretched on and Jack became angry, why was he not dead!? Why had he not been killed in battle?  
“Listen here you! If you think that you can torture me or something just get it over with-“

“My friend.” Jack’s words died on his tongue when he heard the other speak quietly. “You…are…my friend.” The pressure from the club slowly eased off as he spoke and soon the native nation was standing and looking down at Jack. Even though he’d been freed Jack could not move, his mind was blank…he couldn’t process what was happening.

Slowly a hand was offered to him and Jack remembered back to their first meeting on the beach, the same hand reached out to him now and a similar smile came onto his friends face. But the welcoming was different.  
“Hello friend.”

Jack knew it was wrong, knew he should not but…he smiled and reached out for that hand. Just as their fingers touched the other’s face stopped smiling and his legs buckled. The boy’s eyes had closed even before he began to fall.

“Mate!” Jett cried as he reached out and caught the falling boy. The other slumped in his arms, body limp and his eyes just open as his arms weakly wrapped around Jack’s own form. Jack began to panic, the boy was hardly breathing and his body felt like ice to the touch.  
“Mate…mate hold on! Hey come on don’t go pulling a joke on me! Hang in there…!”

“Hello.” He whispered quietly with a smile as a tear slowly slipped from his eye and rolled down his dark coloured cheek. “Hello my brother, Jett.”

And right there, in Jack’s arms, the aboriginal nation of Australia died.

Jack screamed, he screamed at the bastard for dying, he screamed at himself for not realising what was happening till it was too late and he screamed at the feeling of his heart being torn.  
Why had he been aiming for this out come before? Why had he thought he’d feel anything other than this grief when the fighting did end?

“No..no…no…” Jack sobbed as he held the body of his first true friend to his chest. Images of his smiling face coming into Jack’s mind assaulting him as they did, images of the days they’d spear fish or go hiking to the highest mountains they could find all displayed before his tear blinded eyes.  
“C-Come on….you can’t do this to me mate….” Jack sobbed weakly as he hugged his cold body closer to his chest.

“I don’t even….know your name yet.”

…  
…

Jack didn’t leave the field. He sat there with the body of the native boy long after the others had left, long after the other bodies had been removed and even after he had run out of tears to shed.

The sound of heavy footsteps behind Jack broke him from his silent, motionless spell. Turning slightly he saw the familiar form of his big brother standing behind him with an unamused expression.

“Jack it’s getting dark and you’re absolutely filthy. Come inside quickly.” He ordered waiting for Jack to comply. When he didn’t so much as blink Arthur became confused. That was until he saw the body of the fallen nation laying on his little brother’s lap. “I see. So he’s dead.” Arthur didn’t sound pleased or angry, he was simply noting the facts.

“Come inside now Jack. It’s time to be going.” Jack’s only response was to curl around the fallen native’s body a little more protectively and Arthur growled low in the back of his throat.  
“Jack enough of this nonsense.” He snapped while grabbing his hand and pulling him back towards the house. Jack shouted and protested the whole way, reaching back for the body of his friend until it was out of sight behind a slammed door.

“How many times must I tell you not to acquaint yourself with savages and animals. I always tell you not to bring them into the house or give them food but you never, ever listen to me do you? No, instead you go and feel pity for them and now you’re all upset because one died. It’s weakness in you boy, weakness!”

Arthur scolded him all the way into their home but unlike the scolding’s he got as a child Jack didn’t find any warmth in this one and in his desperation and mourning he allowed his tongue to slip.

“But he’s my mate…!-“

_Smack!_

Jack shut up that instant as his cheek exploded in fiery pain, it didn’t take him long to realise that Arthur had struck him.

“What was that?” Jack didn’t turn his head back to face England, his wide eyes filling with childish tears as he held his cheek that had been struck. “ _Mate_?” England spat the word venomously.  
“I thought I taught you better than that, I thought I’d taught you not to use that affiliation with that vulgar creature?”

“Brother I…I…” Jack turned to look up at England, wishing to explain himself but when he looked up at his brother…that wasn’t who he saw. It was as though he was only seeing Arthur correctly for the first time in many years.

The man in front of him was not Arthur, was not his precious big brother nor the person that raised him. The person in front of him now was cruel and relentless, he was still a broken monster left behind from Alfred’s betrayal. This man was not Arthur…and Jack feared him.

England seemed to see what Jack had realised as well and a malicious smile curled on his face. His hands suddenly came down onto Jacks shoulders and with a rough push the two fell back onto the ground with Arthur pinning Jack down.  
“What’s the matter little brother?” Arthur’s cruel voice purred as he looked down at his little brother. “You’re making a terrified face, am I being scary?

“Stop…” Jack whispered quietly, his fear stopping him from being able to speak above a whisper. “Stop it…!” Jack tried to push his big brother away from him but only had his wrists pinned against the floor by his head.

“Are you trying to order me around Australia?” He asked coldly. “Are you trying to be rebellious like your brother?” Jack hadn’t realised just how far gone his brother had been until he heard the madness in his voice and saw it in his eyes. When had his brother snapped this way? Had he not noticed it before or was he ignoring it?

“No I- Ah!” Australia cried out in pain as Arthur’s grip on his wrists tightened to breaking point. “S-Sto…ah!” It hurt, it hurt more than Jack had imagined a simple grip could, he thought his wrist was going to snap under Arthur’s hands.

“When did you grow up?” Arthur whispered quietly in his colonies ear. “When did you think it was okay to go and get an adult form?” Jack hadn’t realised it until England said it but…he had obtained a fully grown body. When had he grown so much?

“Ahh.” Arthur breathed with a small chuckle. “I know. It was when you killed the savage.” Jack’s eyes widened and his heart stopped. “Yes, yes I see it now. You were able to steal his life and grow into an adult. Such a clever little boy my Australia is.”

“No!” Jack screamed, able to break one hand away and strike his big brother. He hadn’t meant to do it and even England seemed surprised as he fell away from Jack who immediately knew a dangerous situation and tried to escape the room.  
Jumping up he dashed for the only exit, his hand coming down on the handled and relief flooded him as he found it was unlocked.

But he was not as fast as his big brother and the door was slammed shut by a hand that shot past him over his head. Jack could feel the owner of that hand looming over him from behind and he broke out in a cold sweat. His big brother had never scared him before but now he found himself trembling just at his presence.

“That hurt Australia.” England breathed quietly, voice strained with anger. The hand that did not block his escape attempt curling around his waist and pulling him away from the door into his big brother’s chest. “You never listen to what you’re told…you rebellious little brat.”

The hand that restricted around him slowly slid up his body, ducking under his clothes to run along his bare chest and make Jack shiver in terror at the cool touch of his big brother. The offending hand came out of his clothes by his chin, grabbing hold of the delicate skin with a gloved hand. The action causing Jack’s clothes to bunch up and reveal his body more.

“Wh...What are you…?” Jack tried to stutter out the question but the hand that had blocked his escape now covered his mouth while the other angled his head off to the side.

“A lesson little brother. A lesson on control and order, you lack both.” A muffled scream came from behind England’s gloved hand as Jack felt his brother’s teeth bitting into his neck.  Squeezing his eyes shut Jack had to endure to the rough biting, not sure what it was his brother was trying to do.  
After a few torturous licks and none to gentle bites England moved away from his brother’s neck slightly.

“There we are.” He murmured, sounding pleased. “Now you’re marked.” Australia’s eyes widened realising what his brother had been doing and he began to squirm and struggle about, trying to get free of his crazed sibling.

“Still not submissive?” Arthur asked, sounding innocently surprised before smiling into his brother’s neck. “Alright I’ll have to extend your lesson for a while.”  
After that Australia found himself thrown onto Arthur’s bed and again pinned. It didn’t take Jack long to figure out just what type of lesson his brother was trying to teach him.

It was a painful and humiliating lesson that filled the usually quiet house with cries of agony and unwilling pleasure through the night. The chorus of ‘please no’ and ‘stop’ continuing long into the night until finally the lesson ended and Jack had passed out.

And through all of it Jack clutched onto the small pendant that Arthur had sent him, the same chain that held not only Arthur’s gift but his native friend’s own and Zealand’s also. Even after he had lost consciousness he held that precious item close to his body, guarding it from harm.

It was all he had left of the days that he’d spend playing with his friends.

 

…  
... (Roughly 1973)  
...

 

“Hey Mate…” Jett murmured quietly. “I know, I know…I haven’t come to visit in a while. I just got a little bit caught up.”

Jett stood alone in a field, the howling wind biting into his warmly dressed body. Breathing out with a small chatter of his teeth Jett wrapped his arms tighter around his body as he looked down and spoke quietly.

“A lot has happened in the last few years. I know you loved them but…the last little tiger died.” Jett admitted guiltily. “They’re extinct now but some still think they’re hiding somewhere down in Tassie, that’d be nice right? Haha, I bet you’d come and find them in a heartbeat wouldn’t you? But…that was years ago, decades ago that the last one died out so I guess the trails a little cold now isn’t it?”

“Of course big brother left for England a long while ago as well. You wouldn’t miss him as much though….” Jett hesitated, feeling that if he spoke the next words his brother might somehow know and just come right back around to punish him. “I’m…so relieved.” Laughing in a self pitying way Jett sat down and crossed his legs on the ground.

“It’s stupid ain’t it? Being terrified of my own brother and being so blind to cause all this mess. But…I guess I always was a fool when it came to him right? Blinded by love and then even after I swore to hate him forever…I just bent right back to his will. What a stupid Australia I am.” Shaking his head Jett got back onto topic about the happenings in the country.

“Then there were those underground killings a while back. I knew the underworld was rough but those murders shook everyone. It wasn’t pleasant.” Jett sat on the ground chatting away for what felt like hours. Catching up, explaining why he’d been gone so long but eventually his words stopped and a sad smile formed on his face.

“I miss ya mate…” Jett’s hand slowly reached out, coming to rest on the smooth stone of the grave he was visiting.  
“If I hadn’t been such a fool…you’d still be alive wouldn’t you?” Jett smiled but it was a weak sorrowful smile that quickly broke as the tears began to overwhelm him. Bowing his head down before the grave Jett sobbed weakly.

“Such a foolish…Australia I was… You made a much better Australia than me.” Looking up at the grave Jett tried to smile past the tears again. After all…his friend always smiled even when he seemed to be in pain. “You know…I never got to say it back to you. I didn’t say it back then but I should have. You’re my friend, my best friend. My brother.”

“Jett?” Jett grit his teeth angrily, he didn’t like being disturbed but he knew that it was time to go. There was something he had to do. Standing up he dusted himself off and turned to face his new boss.

“Yeah I got it.” He said simply before turning to look at the grave and place a single flower there. “I’ll come again soon. This time I’ll keep my promise…but first I have to do something for you.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” His boss asked uncertainly. “The last boss wouldn’t do it…?”

“This is the right thing to do.” Jett said firmly. “I can’t stand another moment without having this done. It’s time that this ended.” Jett spoke firmly as he strode away from the grave, head high and goal set in mind. He’d not be turning away from it this time.

“You’re here.” Jett was greeted by a familiar man. This human wasn’t his boss but he was still in the government and Jett rather liked him. “We were just about to get started.”

“Thanks Chris.” Jett smiled as he walked into the government room along with his boss, making sure to walk behind him as his eyes swept the room, checking for any sign of his brother so he’d know if he had to turn tail and run. No England in sight. Perfect.

“Are you absolutely sure…?” Again his boss asked him and Jett waved him off before giving a firm nod.  His green eyes shining with a conviction that couldn’t be shaken, this was happening and it was happening today.

“Without a doubt. Now do as I say…abolish The White Australian Policy.”

Jett smiled all through the meeting, all through the discussions and speeches. Since 1949 they’d slowly been picking away at this policy and finally it appeared as though it was going to fall. Finally Jett would be able to return to his friend’s grave and tell him that the blasted policy was dismantled.

But that wouldn’t bring him back.  
Jett’s smile faded at the thought and his fists clenched. It wouldn’t bring the smiling nation back and it wouldn’t wash away the years of abuse that his own two hands had caused. This was not something to make things even or better…it was just a single step in the right direction.

And then the cry that he’d been waiting for so desperately went up.  
“The White Australia Policy is officially dismantled!”

Even as Jett felt like crying he smiled. Finally….it was going to end.  
“I have to go.” He told his boss. Jett was eager to return to the grave site. He had to go and see his friend, tell him what had happened.

“Ah, hold on a second…Jett!” He ignored his boss and took off out of the meeting hall. He ignored the stares as he ran through the halls and into the streets outside the meeting’s walls.

As he ran Jett wondered if perhaps he’d be forgiven now. Perhaps this small step forward would give him some sense of forgiveness for all that he’d done.  
Well…no, he didn’t actually believe that. Not for a second did he think he deserved to be forgiven but at the same time there was still a shred of hope that one day he might be.

“Hey mate!” He shouted with a goofy ass grin on his face once the site of the grave was within eye shot. “I got great….news…?” Jett’s running steps slowly faded to a walk and then to a complete stop as he saw something he hadn’t expected.  
His green eyes were wide as he stared at the grave and just what it was that was currently sitting on the grave.

Kicking his feet aimlessly with a carefree expression was a boy that Jett swore he’d never met before but at the same time had known all his life. That boy was sitting on top of the grave, his friends grave…his friend’s grave was not a seat!

“Hey get the hell off of that!” Jett shouted, storming forward as he prepared to grab hold of the bastard that dared to sit on that spot. But his hand jerked to a stop when the male turned to look at him. It was as though Jett’s entire life shattered right in front of him when a set of familiar green eyes met his own.

It wasn’t possible….it simply wasn’t possible.

“Oh, hey there mate.” The male smiled at Jett and stopped kicking his legs. “Did ya say something?” Jett was petrified. He stood motionless on the spot while staring at the person in front of him.

Messy brown hair, two strands sticking up right, green eyes, bushy brows, a band-aid plastered across his nose and a bright ass smile on his face.  
There was no mistake, the person in front of him was his friend. Jett’s legs became weak under him and he fell back away from the ghost like creature in front of him.

“I-It’s not possible!” He choked out the words while staring up at the recognizable features. But they were wrong, his skin was white and he was no longer a child but a young teenager much like Jett was when he first met his friend. The nation that stood in front of him now was not the one he’d known, not exactly but…at the same time…there was no way it was anyone other than him.

“Easy there mate.” The other laughed and reached down towards Jett, his hand offered out to him with that familiar smile. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Who….who _are_ you?” Jett whispered as he stared up at the other nation.

“I’m Christian, call me Chris. Great to meet ya!” He shook his hand slightly, impatiently waiting for Jett to take it. “I guess you could say that I’m your brother now, eh? Australia? Let’s be best mates from now on okay?”

Slowly Jett’s hand reached out towards Chris’s, his fingers jerked back slightly when they touched his warm skin and found he really was alive and not just a ghost to haunt him but then their hands locked and much like the first day that Jett had arrived on the island he was saved by that warm smile and offered hand.

“Hello…” Jett murmured quietly, not quite sure if he believed what was in front of him now.

“Hello to you to mate!”

 

…  
… (Back to Present)

 

“It didn’t take long after that.” Jett said quietly. “For me to figure out what he was. At first I thought maybe he was a ghost to punish me for my wrong doings and then I thought maybe he was someone else entirely and I was just going mad with grief but…sure enough he was my brother. The nation I found that day was the same as the native boy that found me on the beach, only because of my acts he was no longer himself. He did not remember being friends with Indonesia or the fights between us…he was blissfully ignorant to everything.”

Prussia hadn’t interrupted this time and much to Jett’s surprise he looked genuinely sad.  
“That’s why you said it wasn’t the same as West and I. And that’s the way you want to keep it…?” Jett nodded simply.

“There’s no reason for Chris to remember painful things. It’s much better for him to keep smiling like an idiot. I’ll take care of the other stuff.” Jett told Prussia simply.

“That’s rough. Don’t you think you’re being a bit too pitiful?” Prussia asked with a frown. “Don’t you think your bruder would feel awful if he knew?”

“Of course, that’s why I-“

“Nein. That’s not what I meant.” Prussia cut across him harshly. “Don’t you think Christian would be sad to see just how much pain you’re in all on your own?”

Jett was silent, he’d never actually thought about what Chris would think of his secrets. He’d always just told himself it was best that Christian remain happy and unburdened with those thoughts.

“Right!” Suddenly Prussia was up, his sudden change startling Australia. “Enough of that! I’ve got something much better.” Jett watched as the Prussian walked into his kitchen and started rummaging around loudly. It took him a second to realise just what it was he was up to.

“Booze is in the fridge on the right.” He called casually and sure enough not a moment later Prussia returned with arms filled with bottles of bear and a big ass smirk on his face.

“Now that you’ve bleed your heart out it’s time to get to the fun stuff!”

“You seriously want to get pissed right now?” Jett asked with an unwilling smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Alright fine, hand me a bottle.” Prussia complied, tossing a bottle to Jett who caught it without any trouble.

“Let’s see which one of us gets maggoted first.” Jett decided, feeling both the need for some fun and some senseless drunkenness to forget that bleeding heart nonsense.

“We’ll make a bet of it.” Prussia agreed and together they tapped the bottles together and began to scull.  
Neither one was sober enough after a while to remember they even had a bet.

 

...  
… (Some dozen bottles of various types of alcohol later.)  
...

 

“And then…and then I called him up.” Jett was saying, his speech slurred rather badly as he pointed a finger in the air to emphasise his point. “And I told him the apocalypse had started! The yankee shit himself!”

Jett and Prussia both laughed in their drunken way. Prussia looped one arm around Jett’s shoulders as he struggled for air.

“Oh and the time I put a snake in his bed!” America was usually the butt of all of Australia’s jokes. Most often revolving around drop bears and the fact that they lived ‘one day in the future’ so it was fun to call America up and tell him the world was ending.  
“He cried and cried!”

“You know…” Prussia drawled with a soft Keseses. “The awesome me once made that Austrian baby cry.”

And so their drunken tales went like that. The two of them ended up howling with laughter most of the time. At one point after Prussia’s story about making Austria cry the two of them had toppled down on to the floor, finding that their balance and legs weren’t working to well.

“You’re heavy, move you bastard…!” Jett complained, pushing his hand against Prussia’s face grumpily.

“Kesesese! The awesome me won’t move.” Prussia refused.

“You mean you can’t?”

“Urk, I can! Just don’t want to.” Prussia protested but Jett was pretty sure that his drunken body was to blame.

“Pft, your funny.” Jett snickered at Prussia’s inability to move correctly.

”Your face is funeh!” Prussia growled back and the two began to wrestle. Well wrestle as best they could with their drunken bodies. Eventually Prussia got the upper hand again, pinning Jett down.

“Ha! Now admit to the awesome me that I’m the best damn country ever!” Gilbert demanded but Jett just slammed his palm flat against Prussia’s face again.

“No way. You’re just a drunken idiot.” Jett murmured, ignoring the fact he was probably a drunken idiot as well at this point.

“Nein! You’re the drunk one.” Gilbert argued stubbornly, prying at Jett’s hand.

“Quit arguing with me you drunk!” Jett snarled grabbing hold of Gilbert’s face like one of those

“I’m not arguing, I’m just right and you’re wrong!”

“Says the one that was talking to the potatoes.” Jett replied with a sly smirk.

“I told you that in confidence you bastard!” Gilbert cried in horror and again their wrestling resumed, they knocked over basically anything that could be knocked over. The table along with the tea cups and all the scones, the lamp, the smaller chairs, hell they might have even pushed over a chair or two as they rolled about trying to pin the other.

They ended up getting more bruises and even a few rips in their pulled apart clothes, it was starting to look more and more indecent to an outsider. But hell the two were drunk and didn’t care all that much.

This time it was Prussia that ended up pinned by Jett.  
“Ha! I win.” Jett grinned victoriously.

“Nein! I’m just showing you pity because I’m awesome.” Prussia declared and Jett’s expression turned dark, he almost looked like Russia with that smile.

“Oh yeah?” Jett growled while reaching around along the floor, looking for something deadly. Prussia seemed to catch on just as Jett’s hand curled around a fallen scone.

“Nein! Halt, nein!!” Prussia howled while kicking about furiously. Jett ignored him and shoved the scone into his open mouth, forcing him to eat it. Almost instantly Prussia’s eyes bulged and he choked, face turning green.

“Say uncle!” Jett demanded while watching Gilbert struggle just to breathe. When Jett heard something that sounded vaguely like uncle he let go of the scone, only to get it spat into his face, not swallowing any of it.

“Bastard…” Gilbert growled before jamming a knee into Jett’s chest sending him tumbling over. Prussia made the best of this and again found himself pinning Jett down.  Growling his frustration Jett tried to dislodge the albino idiot but found his arms were again behind pinned and with his face pressed against the floor it was hard for him to do much.

The two stayed that way for a while, both panting to try and regain their breath. Occasionally one of them would give a breathless laugh during the moment of silence. Perhaps it’d be beer that made them friends in the end.

“Oi. You know how I said I made Austria cry once?” Prussia asked finally.

“Yeah. What about it?” Jett asked while trying to slip his arms away from Prussia.

“Well I made him cry twice, want to guess the other way I made that stiff pansy cry?” Jett didn’t like the tone of Prussia’s voice. It was all too smug and taunting, he was sure that he’d punch him in a minute.

“Not really. Get off me git.” He complained before feeling Prussia pressing against him in a slightly more intimate way.  
_Oh fuck no._  
“Hey bastard get the fuck off me.” Jett hissed angrily, guessing what Gilbert’s drunken head was thinking. He’d heard far too often of his fondness of claiming vital regions, a fondness that had presumably gotten him a place in that bad touch trio.

“Keseses. Make me, if you don’t I’m gunna make you cry too little boy.” Gilbert was teasing him now, one had coming down to grab his chin and have him look back at the older of the two nations. Unintentionally Jett flushed red, he was drunk as well but even in that hazy state of mind he wasn’t going to lay with another guy.

“You know you blush like a maiden, ja?” Gilbert snickered before glancing down to see the flesh that had been exposed with Jett’s clothes having been pulled apart slightly in their scuffles. “And you got the body of a sweet little kinder!” Again Gilbert was laughing at him.  
“I bet you’d like to have your vital regions claimed by me, ja?”

“Yeah, in your dreams mate.” Jett and Gilbert seemed like they were about to get into another punch up when a startled voice sounded from the doorway.

“W-What the hell is going on!?” Both Prussian and Australian glanced up to the doorway seeing a very startled Germany. In fact he looked so shaken that his face was turning bright red.

“Ah West.” Gilbert greeted him with a casual smile. “Want a drink?”

“N-Nein! What are you doing bruder?” The German looked mortified at he looked in at the disaster of a room and what appeared to be his brother about to take advantage of a drunken nation. Of course Germany flushed profusely and refused to look directly at either of them.

Seeing his chance however Australia jammed his palm into Gilbert’s chest and threw him off harshly. The older nation falling on his rump with an indigent little growl.  
“Well I _was_ enjoying myself West…” Gilbert complained angrily but Jett paid him no mind.

“Ah, sorry Germany…” Jett apologised while stumbling to his feet, finding it hard to stand when he was so pissed. “I’d clean up…or offer you a drink but I’m a little bit messed up right now.” He smiled lazily before losing his footing and falling back against the wall.

“Argh…shit. Maybe I had a bit too much?” He murmured looking back at the mountain of bottles that belonged just to him…there was another pile on the other end of the lounge for Prussia. “Naw…I’ve had worse.” He chuckled.

He felt Prussia’s arm once again loop around his shoulder and the two of them laughed drunkenly together, neither one looking at Ludwig who was becoming increasingly annoyed and frustrated.

“Bruder, why are you here anyways?” Prussia asked peering over at the younger or two siblings.

“I came to pick you up. It was getting dark und you did not contact me.” Ludwig explained stiffly and just as Jett remembered he was all business.

 _My, my…what a diligent little brother_. Jett thought with a lazy smile. _Guess this idiot needs someone looking after him._

“My bad Germany.” Jett smiled waving lightly. “I distracted ‘im for a while. Take the drunkard home.” He murmured shoving Prussia towards his younger brother. The white haired male complained and whined as he was pushed onto his brother.  
“Go on get him out of here. I’m done with him and his drunken ass.”

“Weeees~t” Prussia cried out while clinging to his brother, absolutely shit faced. Germany tried to handle his brother and stop him from falling flat on his face but he found himself looking up at Jett.

“Are you alright, Australia?” He asked, concern leaking into his tone. “Mein bruder did not do anything to upset you has he?”

“I’m not some school girl, you don’t have to skirt around my feelings.” Jett waved him off before collapsing on the lounge and laying an arm over his eyes. Boy was he gunna be hung over tomorrow.  
Germany watched as the drunken Australia as he lay on the lounge. Germany couldn’t help but notice just how terribly wasted and vulnerable the other was and a slightly dark expression came onto his face.  
Did the Australian have no sense of self preservation…?

Ludwig opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something but eventually closed it and nodded stiffly.  
“Well if you’ll excuse us then.” Germany said he goodbyes and began to drag his groggy wailing brother with him.

“West!” Prussia complained as he was dragged by the back of his shirt. “I don’t want to go hooome!” He complained furiously.

“Shut up East. What were you doing? Vanishing from the house to go and bother another nation. What were you doing there in the first place?” Germany demanded, angry that his brother would be so thoughtless even though it was certainly nothing new.

“I wanted some beer!” But they both knew full well they had plenty of that back at home. Germany stopped and the two brothers stared at one another, a somewhat serious expression passing between them.

“I don’t know what you were up to bruder…”Germany began, his voice icy as he spoke to his elder brother.

“You sound defensive West. Is there something you’re worried about?” Germany snapped his mouth shut after Gilbert said that. Turning his gaze back towards the road he continued to drag his brother, not answering his question.

Gilbert didn’t say anything else either. He knew his little brother better than anyone else…and he knew West’s actions were a far cry for innocent. Just what it was that his big brother was thinking of doing he wasn’t sure but Gilbert wasn’t going to have any more trouble.  
They’d had enough fighting and loss to last them a few more hundred years.

 

…  
…  
…

 

“Bro you still awake?” Chris called when he entered the house that night. His meeting with Indonesia had gone on longer than expected and he’d had more fun than he first thought he’d been able to. The little sheila was a great girl there was no doubt.  
Zea had given him a lift home and was currently pulling out some gifts from the car, every time they visited another nation they always took gifts just as a show of good faith but whenever they went to Indonesia they came home with way more than they went away with.

The lights in the house were still all on and the door was unlocked so Chris had been confused as to what his brother was doing. They stayed up late often sure but it was four in the morning and Jett usually had a bed time of at least two am.  
When he stepped into the house he could smell plenty of beer and most of his confusion cleared up.

Walking to the living room Chris thought that it had been hit by a tornado and when he found his brother laying in a heap on the lounge he adjusted his assumption – so a drunken tornado then.  
Jett lay with his clothes pulled up and part revealing his body to anyone that might be passing by, he had bruises all over him as if he’d gotten into a fight and he was drooling in his sleep.

Chris blinked a few times seeing his brother in such a position but eventually he just laughed. Jett groaned at the sound of his loud laugh and rolled over, curling against the lounge all the more. Chris quickly quietened his voice down but kept laughing.  
Kneeling down next to his sleeping brother on the lounge Chris jabbed a finger on his face a few times, deciding that if that didn’t wake him up like normal he’d gotten completely smashed.

Jett did shift a little bit, to swat at Chris sleepily but that was it. Chris’s smile became a full blown grin and before long he was snuggled down in the lounge with his brother.

“Really mate…I leave you alone for one day and you wreck the place. How are you the older brother?” Chris smiled down at the sleeping nation. “If I did this you’d beat me to within an inch of my life and make me scrub the place wouldn’t ya? Crikey…you’re such a grumpy big brother.

Unexpectedly Jett leant over and rest against his little brother’s shoulder. When Chris looked down at Jett and saw he was still asleep he couldn’t help but smile lightly, reaching over he held the sleeping drunk against him.  
“Honestly….bro you’re a bit of a handful ya know?” Chris frowned when he noticed the two strands of hair that Jett hated sticking up. “Do you not like looking like me or something?” He murmured while brushing them back down for Jett.

Jett mumbled something in his sleep as he snuggled against his little brother, something he’d never allow in his waking state. Chris enjoyed it while it lasted, after all Jett would only beat him later on if he tried to hold him. His older brother was a little bit of a brat that way.

“Hey brother, I wanted to say something sappy and girly to you but I knew you’d hit me if you were awake so listen to me while you’re snoozing okay?” Resting his chin on the palm of his hand Chris continued. “You and I share many things, a face, a name and a country but more importantly I want you to remember that we share a heart. This heart here is mine.” He said pressing his hand to his chest with a smile before putting a hand against Jett’s own chest.  
“And this one here is yours, I don’t want you to forget that because without one of us the other one isn’t whole.”

Grinning the younger nation laughed brightly. “Told you it was sappy but…it’s true. If you were to go away I’d be half of who I am so…let’s just stay together like this always okay? Whatever it is that you’re hiding from me all the time…I don’t mind if you share it with me because I’ll share the suffering with you. So hurry up and tell me, you got it?”

Laughing at his own girly words Chris let his eyes slide shut while his hand sought out Jett’s. With his eyes closed Chris leant back against his brother and allowed himself to begin to drift off with him. Their hands intertwining as the two Australian brothers began to sleep, Jett’s drunken state numbing the nightmares leaving him to get some real rest.

“Christian?” Toby called quietly after dumping off the gifts in the hallway. It took him a while longer to spot the two brothers on the lounge together. The fair country stopped to look at his brothers with his usual soft expression, only a slight lifting of his bushy brows indicating his surprise at seeing the tranquil scene.

Finally he decided on the course of action he would take. Going upstairs to their bedroom Toby retrieved the spare blanket from the bed, going about his cautious removal of any possible deadly creatures on it before returning to his two siblings and preparing to throw it over them.

Toby paused however, looking at the two in this sweet setting was unusual and the New Zealand nation felt the need to have proof of it happening. So he whipped out his phone and took a single picture of the two before he put a blanket over them. Toby was not a mean country however and instead of sending to everyone he could think of he simply sent a copy of it to himself and saved the image.

He was about to leave when he glanced back at his brothers for a second time, hesitating for longer but slowly he walked over the lounge.  
It wasn’t like Toby to do something cuddly, especially towards his obnoxious brothers who constantly made jokes about his sheep and lord of the rings input…but…just this once it might be nice for him to act like a proper brother.

Hesitantly the small nation climbed onto the lounge with the two and much to his surprise he was welcomed by a sleepy Australia. The dazed nation pulling the blanket up around his little brother even though he was hardly conscious as he did. Toby glanced at the two sleeping nations and decided that when one was quiet and the other wasn’t snarling at people they did look almost cute. With that in mind Toby held his phone out at arm’s length and snapped another picture.

When he looked at it he was pleased to see he’d captured all three of them, his sleeping brothers looking terribly childish and funny as he took the image. Smiling faintly to himself Toby leant against his brother and let his eye slip shut, no doubt there’d be hung over shouting the next morning and Chris’s annoying cheerfulness but for now that didn’t matter.  
Nothing about their history mattered and if the three had their way they’d not be divided ever again.

For now the three brothers were perfectly happy with one another.

 

…  
…  
…

 

Settlement- End.


	3. Temptation

_Tap, tap, tap…_

Throughout the small office the soft ticking of a pen twitchily drumming away against the desk echoed endlessly, filling the usually calm and quiet room with a sense of unease and restlessness.  
It felt as though the walls were going to close in at any given moment and trap the occupants inside. Suffocating, that was the air in the dark little room, absolutely claustrophobic.  
Still the single occupant of its walls continued to sit in silence, staring down at the work spread out before him and finished hours before.

Every logical nerve in his body screamed that he abandon this idea, that he cast aside these thoughts that had plagued him and yet whenever his hand would linger over the paper he’d been scribbling away at with the intent to scrap it and toss it out…he’d hesitate.  
Yet again his hand hovered over the smooth surface of the paper, fingers twitching as again the effort to convince himself against these foolish thoughts deemed futile.  
And once more his hand was placed flat against the rough surface of the wooden desk and that pen continued restlessly tapping away.

It was not right. It was not what his country needed, wanted or had even thought of and yet he was fully considering the possibility.  
The possibility that he may make a move that all his political knowledge knew was unethical and unrealistic.   
Nothing about this idea made sense as a nation…as a proud and honourable country these thoughts were petty and cruel, yet still he harboured them.

Fingers raked back through the loose strands of blonde that had slipped free of their usual neat positioning and teeth were ground together harshly.   
It felt as though his body might rip in two. He was a reasonable man by all means and he knew that this plan would not make sense. If he were to launch an attack as sudden and illogical as this he may just begin a whole new world war.

And he was in no way prepared for that.

No it was not war.   
The years of quite distaste and polite talk having brewed an immense hatred that had not been able to be vented.  The years of blame and regret for what had happened and all those days that he’d been scorned by those eyes and the days that came after where the scorn was hidden behind thin smiles.  
No, war was not what drove these ideas in his mind. These thoughts were the product of hatred and past grievances, nothing more and nothing less.

They were petty human emotions and Germany was letting them walk right over his role as a country.

“Mein gott…” Hissing lowly Ludwig cursed himself. “I cannot start a war…I will not be responsible for another disaster like the past. But then how can I…? Argh!” Giving a soft growl of frustration Germany’s hand swept across the table, sending the paper flying out onto the floor as he slammed both hands down on the desk, the pen stopped tapping and it seemed Ludwig had reached his limit.

Looking back at the content that had remained on his desk the German’s cold blue eyes landed on a familiar picture. He’d had it with him for a while now, about the same time those nasty feelings had begun to formulate a plan.

The picture was simple enough, harmless really. It showed three brother nations together and until just recently Germany had little to no contact with them.  
Australia and New Zealand.

As he looked down at the three of them Ludwig’s brows knitted together in frustration. If he went through with these dark thoughts then those three would undoubtedly be torn to shreds.  
They’d not harmed him and he’d harboured little to no resentment towards them…but their brother was the problem.  
That bloody Englishman and the American. They were the source of Ludwig’s problems but still they were untouchable, far too powerful to even lay a finger on at this time.

Australia was not.

The little country was rather inoffensive, making friends wherever they could and keeping to themselves. Well that and they had no true neighbouring countries, they were alone, isolated by masses of water.  
More to the point they were almost as far as one could get from his own country. Attacking them made no sense, politically it wasn’t even an option…and yet Germany had still considered it.  
They were in a treaty with both America and England however, making attacking them just about as unreasonable as trying anything on the larger nations so even that idea had been scrapped.

That should have been the end of it.   
Australia had nothing of value to Germany, not really and they were not enemies and they were even harder to attack. Ludwig should have forgotten and moved on…yet here he was fretting his hair out of its neat state.

“Why?” Ludwig cursed his unreasonable brain. “Why won’t you give up this fool’s errand?” Snatching up the photo Ludwig held it up towards the light as he began to pace, just needing to move his body to stop from exploding.

“They have nothing of use. They have done nothing wrong. They are almost untouchable and so far away so why? Why won’t you let this go?” Ludwig was aware that he must have sounded half mad but he could take this frustration no longer.

“Why won’t you just let them go their own wa-“ Germany stopped. His grip on the photo easing off as he slowly lowered it, his eyes trained on one of the boys in the photo. The eldest brother, Jett Kirkland.  
Ludwig remembered his encounters with the country, he remembered far back even to a time in which Jett must have forgotten.

“Ah, I see now.” Setting the photo back down on the desk Ludwig eased himself back into his seat, feeling more at ease as his brain finally seemed to make that last little link.  
Leaning back in an almost lazy fashion Ludwig allowed himself a small smile.

It was true that Australia was not his target, at least not exactly. But what better way to move forward without starting a war than this?  
It was sneaky and it was cruel but Ludwig was not kind and he’d not feel bad enough to allow his loathing go just for the sake of kindness.

Slowly Ludwig reached down to where the fallen paper had landed and gathered back up the scribblings he’d done while his mind refused to slow down – scribblings somehow still neater than Italy’s gibberish scrawlings – …and sure enough there it was.

“Passive warfare.” Ludwig mused with a small sigh of relief. So he was not completely mad it seemed, he did not plan to send their troops marching off to claim the land down under. In fact Ludwig only planned to send one person and who better to trust with this than himself?

He’d not tell anyone.   
He’d not breathe a word of it to another soul, country or human until it was done.  
And if this idea just so happened to go astray or fail then he’d merely walk away, no harm done.  
But if things did go accordingly…then perhaps he’d feel as though he’d finally become even with those Axis powers, he’d finally feel as though he’d paid America and England back in full for their cruelties against him.

And he’d have a lovely new ‘friend.’

 

…  
…  
…

 

“No.”

“What?” America asked dumbly.

“Not a chance.” Jett answered bluntly before slamming the door shut on America’s face. Not a second later the America had thrown himself against the door crying in that whinny voice of his.

“Dude! You got to be there.” He complained, trying to open the door but Jett held it shut tightly from his end. “Come on!”

“I told you, no fucking way!” Jett growled, jamming his foot against the wall next to the door to fight against Alfred’s insane strength. Damn him, he was such a huge country it wasn’t fair that he could have such strength yet be so childish and uncontrolled!

“Why not?” Alfred shouted through the door as the two worked on ripping the poor thing in two. “Everyone else is going to be there!”

“Exactly why I’m _not_ going!” Jett argued back, not seeing why the Yankee was so hell bent on his going. “Why the hell would I want to hang around you guys? I hate being with you for more than five minutes when you’re in a meeting, how do you think I’d feel about hanging out with you all in fancy dress? Ya Yankee fuck! Let go of my door!”

“Bro! You’re being so uncool!” Alfred was beginning to win with the door but Jett only jammed his other foot against the wall, not realising how ridiculous he would look to anyone on the inside with both feet off the ground while fighting against the larger nation.  
“Prussia will be there!”

Jett frowned slightly when Alfred brought up Prussia. His argument about not being a country now proven invalid but at the same time he had to wonder why it was Alfred thought that was a selling point to him. With that knowledge he let go of the door and sure enough Alfred flew back, tearing the damn thing off its hinges as he tumbled down the stairs leading to the house’s front step.

Jett stood in the now hollow door way and glared down at the other nation as Alfred groaned and began to pick himself back up.

“So what?” Jett demanded angrily, arms crossed standoffishly as he stared down at Alfred. He was glad that it had been him to answer the door instead of Chris. His little brother would have agreed blindly to go to Alfred’s costume party and he’d be roped in without a proper fight.

But without a door…there wasn’t much stopping the stubborn American now was there?

“Well since you two got so chummy…” Alfred began to explain himself but naturally Jett cut across him in a violent rage.

“What the hell do you mean chummy? Where’d you hear that?” Jett knew that Prussia had been over a few times in the past months…but they’d just ended up drunk each time till Germany came to claim his elder brother. That was it, there was nothing else to it. They weren’t friends, they just wanted to get hammered in good company.

“But you two hang out now…? You’re inviting him over aren’t you?” Alfred tried meekly to defend his case.

“We don’t hang out! I never invited anyone over, _ever_!” Jett protested vehemently, finding these assumptions to be outlandish.  
But…at the same time. It was the first time that Jett had anyone over really. He’d never invited another person over sure, but Gilbert showed up whenever he wanted to and Jett didn’t complain too much.

“He…just came over to pick up Gilbird and we decided it’d be ‘right to get drunk sometimes.” Jett muttered, thinking back to the day he’d called Gilbert to tell him that his bird had finally recovered. He’d hardly even hung up when Prussia arrived, Jett had to let the excited and anxious country in and after that…they’d just sort of made a drinking deal.

“Who told you something so stupid anyway?” Jett asked with a frown, surely Prussia wasn’t going around shouting that they were braiding each other’s hair or some shit.  
Or maybe he was, that guy had some serious issues…

“Well!” Alfred perked up and Jett knew he’d made a mistake asking when he saw the goofy ass grin on his face. “I heard it from France and Francis heard it from Spain who heard it when Romano shouted profanities at…”

“I get it!” Jett snapped, shutting Alfred up with his weird link tale of how the story got back to him. “People are chatty, I get it.” Jett was beginning to feel the forming of a headache.

“Whatever, bro you got to come tonight!” Alfred leapt back up, leaning forward with fists made and an excited glint in his eyes. “You can get a kick ass costume! I bet you have a great Indian get up from your place!”

“Aboriginal.”

“Huh?” Alfred looked innocently confused, only making Jett crankier.

“It’s Aboriginal, you thick, uncultured little-“

“Ah, G’day Alfred!” Before Jett could begin spitting swears at America, Chris appeared in the doorway, still half naked and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Dude you aren’t up yet?” Alfred laughed while pointing at the bedraggled Chris.

“It’s early. I didn’t feel like getting up.” Chris shrugged with a lazily grin.

“Dude….it’s lunch time.” Again Chris only shrugged.

“So whaddya want?” He asked with a yawn. “It’s a bit early to head out isn’t it? It ain’t even dark yet. But hey if you want to grab the esky and head down the beach I can start early.” Jett tried to stop it, really he did. Raising his hands to try and shut up the American before it was too late. But it was just not fast enough and out spilled all the information on the invitation that Alfred had stopped by to extend.

“A get up party?” Chris repeated and Jett had to stop himself from slamming his palm into his forehead when he saw the way his little brother’s eyes lit up. In the next second he’d turned on his older brother, stance very similar to Alfred’s.

“Let’s go!” He declared before adding on a childish. “Can we? Bro can we?” Jett sighed heavily, he really couldn’t say no to the puppy eyes that his brother dished out.

“….Fine.” He growled begrudgingly. “But I’m not getting into some bunny suit or any of that shit.” America wooted in victory, jumping in the air with his fist held high.

“Awesome! See ya both there!” With that the energetic little shit took off running down the road. Did he never grow tired…?

“What should we wear?” Chris was already thinking of costume ideas. “Something scary or hilarious?” Jett stepped out of the way as his brother took off running upstairs, no doubt to rip out every item of clothing they had to Frankenstein something together.

Jett on the other hand walked outside and gathered up the broken remains of their door. It was going to be a pain to fix this but the shed should have everything that he needed for it.  
So while the audible crashes and shattering sounds came from upstairs where Christian took his joys in destroying their closet Jett calmly went about fixing their house, again.

The shed was all tin and pitch black inside, aside from the small gaps in the sheets of metal. The insides consisted more of dust and cobwebs than it did actual storage. Making his way through the maze of discarded oddities and spiders Jett found himself waist deep in junk.

However if he tried to toss any of it Chris would undoubtedly stop him with teary eyes and some odd reason or another. So he just focused on getting the tools he needed and ignored the obvious cry for cleaning the shed was giving out. All the time he tried not to think about the party. He didn’t like social gatherings but Christian loved them so he’d just have to suck it up for a single night.

While he was gathering up everything he needed into a pile in his arms Jett noticed a single little screw fall from the pile and roll under a table. Of course there was always some little piece of crap to go under the table wasn’t there? Sighing Jett dumped everything back down and went about trying to find the lost screw.  
At first all he found was web and dust bunnies. It was gross but still he kept feeling around until finally he felt the cool surface of the screw. A smile of victory came onto his face.

“Got you…” Jett murmured darkly with a wicked smirk, as if he’d been hunting the little screw.

“This place has seen better days.” Jett jumped at the sound of another voice, his head banging against the top of the desk causing him to yelp in pain before growling in anger at his own idiocy.   
“Haha, bro did I give ya a fright?” Chris laughed from where he stood in the shed’s doorway, leaning against the frame with an easy going smile.

“Shut your damn mouth.” Jett grumbled before snatching up the screw and dropping it into the pile with the others. “If you’d just been quiet I wouldn’t have banged my head!” Jett continued to growl at his brother while once more trying to gather up the tools.

Yet again that screw began to roll off to the side and Jett just knew it would fall under the table again. However as it slipped off the edge Chris caught it effortlessly as he walked over to Jett’s side. Tossing the screw back and forth between his hands.

“Just let me help ya mate. You’re being stubborn.” Chris smiled while taking half of the tools and this time nothing fell as they made their way back out into the sun. “Ya know if you asked for help a little more you’d bang your head less.”

“I’d have less headaches if you shut your trap once in a while.” Jett mumbled, almost sulking as he had to accept Chris’s help. Chris dumped all of the goods onto the ground by the door and turned to face Jett, frowning as he did.

“What’s with that attitude mate? Is it really so bad for me to help out my big brother now and then?” Chris asked while Jett fumed.

“Yes it’s wrong!” Jett snapped back as he walked faster to catch up with Chris, damn his long strides! “I’m the big brother so it’s my job to help you idiot! You can’t go about helping me wh-“ Jett tripped over his own feet and almost lost his balance entirely but the soft weight of Chris’s arm stopped him and his little brother’s hand caught the tools before they could fall.

“You’re trying too hard.” Chris murmured to him quietly while Jett’s face flushed red, embarrassed and angry that he seemed to rely on his brother more and more.

“Shut up!” Jett snapped pushing away from Chris before striding past and dumping the tools with the rest of the things they’d gathered. “I don’t need you babying me. I’m the eldest.” With that Jett completely turned away from Chris, his shame and anger making him impossible to reason with as he furiously went about fixing the door, probably only denting it more under his rough handling.

For a while Chris just watched his angry big brother, knowing full well he’d be growled at if he approached right then. So he waited until it seemed that Jett might not turn the hammer he was using on the nails on his brother instead if spoken to.

“I was looking around in the closets for costumes.” Chris began as he walked over to the working Jett, crouching down by the pile of tools and goods to occasionally hand him something he needed while speaking.

“Yeah and?” Jett asked while keeping most of his focus on the fixing of the door, the damn American had splintered the wood. What a nightmare.

“I found some old dress clothes. I thought it’d be a little funny and a little scary to dress up all formal like. Just thinking about those pinchy shoes instead of my thongs is giving me the shivers.” Chris laughed as he chatted away in that carefree way of his. “What do you think? Fancy dress for us?”

Jett wanted to decline but at least they were real clothes. It was better than a pair of plastic fangs or a clown nose.  
“Yeah sounds good.” Jett agreed causing Chris to grin wider, pleased that his brother was being so agreeable.

“Thanks for this mate.” Chris added as an afterthought while handing Jett a screw.

“For fixing the door? You’d better be damned thankful, I’d hate to think what would wander inside without a door. Already got to fix that snake problem.” Jett murmured offhandedly, distracted by his work.

“No, I mean for the party.” Jett stopped working. “I know you don’t like that sort of stuff, thanks for coming with me.” Jett was quiet for a second before murmuring softly.

“No sweat mate. Don’t even think about it.” He tried to go back to fixing the door but Christian just kept talking.

“You’ve been coming out in public with me more lately as well. I think it’s good for you, being cooped up home all day will drive you mad.” Jett had to agree with that much, being inside for even more than five hours could send either one of the Australian boys mad with the need for the outdoors.

“Do you think that you’ll keep coming out with me?” Christian asked, Jett couldn’t miss the small edge of timid hopefulness even if he tried.

“I don’t think so mate.” Jett responded gently, he didn’t want to keep going out because he knew he’d run into England, he knew he’d be forced to interact with his big brother and he didn’t want to. Plus he didn’t play nice with others in general and he wasn’t even a real country anymore, he didn’t have a place there.

“Bro.” Jett ignored Chris now, not wanting to see the disappointed look he’d no doubt be wearing. His attempts to ignore Chris didn’t get him far as the younger nation grabbed the hand that was working on the door and pulled back, forcing his older brother to look down at him and see that sad expression he wore.  
“Don’t you think you’ve been hiding for too long?”

“I’m not hiding from anything, what would I-“ Jett began to deny the accusations but Chris’s hand tightened slightly.

“From big brother.” Chris said firmly, his concerned face causing Jett to shut his mouth and just listen.

“I’m not asking you to like Arthur, I’m not even asking you to forgive him or anything like that…but please just talk to him. You can’t keep ignoring big brother especially when he’s been trying so hard to speak with you. I know he’s been calling and writing. You know he asked for you at that meeting and I know he tried to speak to you. Brother…you can’t keep running away from him.”

Jett wanted to be mad, he wanted to shout and punch his little brother but none of the familiar red rage came up inside of him, instead he just felt helpless. When looking at that concerned and pained expression that Christian wore…Jett couldn’t refuse.   
He’d never been able to really deny his brother when he made that face.

Turning away from him Jett grit his teeth but didn’t pull his arm free, instead he stood in silence. Christian remained crouched; one arm holding his brother’s arm and the other rest across his knees as he looked up at the troubled expression Jett wore. He was asking a lot and Chris knew it but he had to ask, this silent fight going on between Arthur and Jett had to end, even if they never returned to a friendly relationship this aggression had to stop.

“I’m not promising shit.” Jett choked out. “But…I’ll let him talk. When I see him next, if he wants to talk…I’ll hear it out.” Jett told his little brother finally. All the while he spoke there was one outstanding thought on his mind.  
_I hope I never see him again._ If Jett never saw Arthur again he’d never have to hear him out.

The results to his words however made Jett’s mood boost when Chris smiled that bright truly happy smile up at him.

“Thanks mate.”

 

…  
…  
...

 

Jett hadn’t really thought this through. When Chris had said it, he’d been too focused on the door and ignoring the younger nation that he’d not registered just what old dress clothes he could have possibly found.  
Jett stood staring at himself in the mirror, all dressed up for a party he didn’t want to attend. The neat and formal suit he wore was something from the past but it had been so perfectly kept that one couldn’t have guessed its true age.

Even the rough Jett had to admit that it was an elegant piece of clothing, it was a pity he had to get it from Arthur. Much like Mattie and Alfred he had also received a few ‘proper’ clothes from their big brother. This one was possibly Jett’s favourite even though he didn’t quite like these stuffy clothes.

The suit was mostly black and white, frilly but reasonable. At the very least the cuffs and tie were not as embarrassing as some of the more lacy menswear for its time. Jett could not remember quite when he was given this but he was sure it was seventeenth or eighteenth century.

For the event Jett had slicked back his hair, only letting a few strands of hair free and his usually messy pony tail was done up in a ribbon and looked fairly smooth instead of a spiky mess. Jett hated to think that he might just like the way he scrubbed up but when he stared at himself in the mirror he was, at the very least, not disgusted.

“Well don’t you look all proper like!” Chris declared after exiting the bathroom. His hair had been pushed back as well and his dress clothes were similar to Jett’s, at least in the formal styling.  
His blue jacket was buttoned shut and his cuffs lacked the frills that Jett’s had, he looked a little bit newer in style but that was also his. A gift from Arthur as well so naturally it had come sometime after Jett’s own attire.

“You look rather posh there yourself.” Jett replied nonchalantly while adjusting his tie again. He wasn’t concerned about Arthur being there tonight, after all the Englishman wouldn’t be caught dead mucking around at Alfred’s costume party.

“Are you ready to go?” Jett asked, turning away from the mirror to look at Chris who was holding something scary. Jett flinched back when he saw the make up in his younger brother’s hand and quickly backed away with refusal written all over his face.  
“No way.”

“Come on, it’s a costume party, got to look different.” Jett cringed by didn’t swat Chris away as he placed the concealer over his face. It took a while and all of Christian’s skill, just where that skill came from Jett would touch on later, but eventually it was done.   
“Let’s go!” Not a second after he was finished Chris grabbed hold of Jett’s arm and began to tug roughly.

“Hey I didn’t even get to see what you did!” Jett exclaimed as he was pulled down the stairs by his overexcited little brother.

“Don’t sweat the small stuff. It looks fine and if we’re any later than this Zea is going to scold us in that quiet little voice of his!” The two brothers snickered when making fun of their smallest brother’s passive nature.

“We might just be on time for once.” Jett mused as they left the house, leaving Jett to lock everything up…that is to say shut the front door. When living in the bush they weren’t all too worried about intruders, besides everyone knew that the sheer number of snakes, spiders and other deadly creatures gathered in the house were more than protection enough.  
Not forgetting their Satan koala, which was oddly lacking from his brother’s person that night.

“Where’s the creepy koala?” Jett asked while pocketing their keys. “You finally lock it away before it could murder us all?”

“What? No way, he can’t come with me when I’m in costume, it’ll ruin the look. Besides, his claws rip this type of material too easily. It’s not very practical clothing is it?” Chris murmured thoughtfully while pulling at his cuffs.  
“I can’t run or jump in this get up.”

“A grown up shouldn’t jump about like a gronk.” Jett said offhandedly but not a second cringed at the memory of a similar scolding.  
_‘A gentleman does not run and jump about like a monkey.’_

“Whatever, just don’t rip it.” Jett growled, he’d have to stop getting so worked up over memories like that if he was to keep his deal to Chris. He’d have to try and be civil which meant no more seething over simple memories.  
Still the fact that Chris had said something similar to the child version of himself made Jett smile, they were certainly brothers even if their personalities didn’t match.

“Do you think that Alfred will have a small gathering?” Chris continued to chat with his brother, oblivious as usual.

“Not a chance. He said everyone didn’t he? Besides when has the great heroic America ever done anything small or humble? No, if he has his way there’ll no doubt be explosions, hell I bet the idiot will bring out an whole rocket just for ton-“

**_BANG_ **

The whole world seemed to shake under the two brother’s feet as they stumbled to keep their footing. The loud explosive sound echoing long after the initial tremor under the ground. Looking up towards their destination Jett and Chris could both see slowly rising smoke and a reddish tint to the sky.

The two Australian brothers were silent as their brains tried to piece together just what had happened and then they could hear it.  
That loud, obnoxious, confident, bellowing laughter carrying across the wind from the sight of the explosion and to the two who immediately realised who it was that laughed so heartily. That damn American…

“Hey mate?” Chris began slowly. “Maybe you shouldn’t jinx us like that, ay?”

Jett felt his headache returning with a vengeance.

 

…  
…  
...

 

Sure enough there it was. In the middle of the yard was the sight of an explosion.   
The ground had been hollowed out slightly and debris and dust covered everything surrounding the area. In the middle of the mess a dirt covered Alfred was crouched, still holding onto the blow remains of a firework. Both Jett and Chris had stood on the outskirts of the danger zone and stared at the larger nation, one brother on the verge of laughter and tears and the other with an unimpressed scowl on his face.

“Hey bro that was mad!” America laughed seeing the two watching him. “Hand me another one Mattie!” He held his hand out to thin air and both Jett and Chris had to squint to see the outline of Canada.

“B-Bro…” Matthew stammered meekly. “The last one…” Canada was cut off by his brother’s laughter.

“I know! Cool wasn’t it? Hey, Hey Aussie dudes!” He called to the two brothers, waving excitedly as he did. “Come help me out ya?”

“Not a chan-“

“Alright!” Jett was in the middle of refusing when Chris jumped from the unburnt grassy area and into the burst circle. Jett groaned, not wanting to see Chris blow to high heavens with that idiot American.

“Chris I don’t think you should…”

“You worry too much mate.” Chris smiled cheerfully back at him. “I’ll do it right, kay?” Jett at least trusted Chris not to kill them all in a fiery explosion, Alfred he wouldn’t trust as far as he could spit. So perhaps leaving Chris to baby sit Alfred would be beneficial.

“Hey Mattie.” Jett walked around the edge of the burnt circle and over to the half transparent country. Matthew jumped as if shocked he’d been seen by anyone other than France or America.

“Y-Yes?” Mattie responded timidly. They had been brothers but even in the past Jett had intimidated him and that was before he’d earned a scar and become so harsh. Now Matthew wasn’t so sure the person in front of him was a friend or not. When Matthew turned to look at him though his body froze, it was as though he’d seen a ghost. Jett frowned, trying to guess why it was he looked so taken back by the sight of Jett. He decided not to dwell on it.

“Try to keep them from murdering us all in their stupidity, ‘right?” Resting a hand on Canada’s head Jett began to walk towards the house, mercifully still in one piece. “I’m going to go drink. Give me a shout if they take off their fingers or something.” Waving carelessly Jett walked away from the three, leaving them to their fun.

 _I’ll probably check on them again soon._ Jett decided as he strolled up to the front step. As he stopped, looking up at the large doors he added a small afterthought. _And if Alfred kills my brother I’ll have his head so fucking help me…_

Spitting out a small agitated sigh Jett let himself inside, one hand on the door knob and the other in his coat pocket. The second he stepped inside he saw what Alfred meant by everyone, for once the Yankee hadn’t been exaggerating. It was like the world meeting all over again, he saw familiar faces, new and old and even a few he’d never met before.

The costumes were, thankfully, fairly tame. Some countries were dressed finely as he was and others had taken the costume party to more of a Halloween style but thankfully no one jumped out at him and screamed something in a bad Transylvanian accept or approached him in a sheet.   
Most of it was in good taste, odd considering it was America’s party.   
Although Jett did catch a glimpse of someone with pink hair, so perhaps it was still a tad silly.

The party itself was spared no expense. There were servers, live music, drinks being served along with snacks and a fully decked out food table. If America was good for anything it was throwing a well catered party. Everyone seemed fairly happy, even countries that Jett knew to be a handful.

“If he’s so busy outside playing in the dirt why even throw a party?” Jett muttered to himself while approaching the bar and food. There were all kinds of dishes from all over the world, thankfully it wasn’t all just chips and burgers. Jett could see French food, Italian food and even some Indian dishes.

“As multicultural as America will ever get huh?” Jett chuckled while grabbing some Italian food. If he had to be out in public he might as well get a good meal before going back to their heated up left over’s.

“Ve, ve!” A sudden voice to his right caused Jett to jump, when he turned he saw Italy smiling up at him. It actually took Jett a second glance to recognise the Italian. He was dressed up as well, the uniform he wore was darker than usual and it seemed he may have tinted his hair slightly for the event as it was a redder hue. Italy wore a strange little hat with purplish feathers that made Jett almost compelled to reach out touch. But what was most startling was the fact that his eyes were _open_. Italy looked like himself but at the same time entirely different.

“Ah, it’s Jett!” Italy chimed while Jett took in his appearance but despite the change in attire he acted exactly as he always did, some kind of hyper active bunny on caffeine. “I didn’t recognise you at all in those clothes!” Italy waved his hands about wildly as he spoke. “I thought you were mean old England. How’s the food? Do you like it? It’s from my home so you must like it ci? Ci?” Italy jumped around faster than Jett could follow.

“Ah…yeah mate, it tastes great.” Was the best response that Jett could manage while his eyes followed those flailing limbs.

“Mate..?” Italy frowned tipping his head to the side as he tried to place what Jett meant. “Ah! I remember, you Australians call friends mate right? So we’re friends now? Right, right? We must be friends if you called me that! Ci, be my friend mister Australia, you’re not half as mean as you look. Just like Germany…but he can be very scary when I don’t train you see…”

Jett’s head was spinning, did this guy never stop to breathe? How did he just keep going on and on? What was he even saying…? Something about friends or something of the sort. He wanted to be mates?   
Without thinking Jett thrust his hand forward and stuffed the Italian’s mouth full of pasta and thank god it worked. He stopped talking as a look of delight came over his face and for a second Jett got blissful silence.

“Ve, that’s nice pasta. Oh, you shared with me?” Italy’s face broke into a bright smile. “We’re good friends if you’ll share lovely pasta with me! Share with me some more?”

Suddenly Jett found himself at a table with the strange country. He’d hardly uttered a word, not given a chance to speak with the rapid pace that the Italian moved. But oddly enough Jett wasn’t agitated; in fact he found some peace in this fast speaking little brat. He was kind and even if it was childish naivety it was a nice break from the usual political slyness that he was most often involved with.

“What’s the food like at your place Australia?” Italy asked, those being the first words slow enough for Jett to catch.

“Mostly stolen.” Jett admitted with a shrug. When he thought about their trademark food he didn’t feel like bragging so much. “We mostly eat other people’s food. England’s food wasn’t exactly enough for us and there’s only so much you can do with bush tucker.”

“It must have been hard.” Italy suddenly looked like he was going to cry. “Eating that nasty, awful English food and only a babino.” Jett’s hands were taken into Italy’s own as he looked up at him with a heart broken expression. “You should eat nice food all the time. Ve! You can eat lots of food from my place if you like, I’ll feed you lovely pasta!”

How could someone hate this guy? Even though he made Jett’s head hurt and he knew he shouldn’t like this fast talking little guy at all, Jett kinda felt inclined to be friendly. After all if he was that agitating happy he didn’t want to see him upset.

“That’d be nice. Thanks Italy…because we’re….mates?” Jett tried, not sure what he was meant to say but it did the trick, Italy’s smile returned as bright as before.

“Hey mister Australia you’re really not as scary as I remember. You’re nice, let’s get along!” Actually now that Jett thought about it Italy had always hid from him when he was around but that night he’d approached him. What had changed…?   
_The scar!_

Jett realised very suddenly why it was that Italy seemed more comfortable. He turned quickly to the table, picking up one of the metal plates to see his blurry reflection but sure enough…his face was clear. He looked younger and ten times less intimidating, even Jett had to remind himself that it was him in that reflection. His brother sure knew his makeup, Jett would find the correct way to tease him with that later.

“Sorry…” He said finally, setting the plate down. “I didn’t realise I had been scaring you before.” Jett didn’t feel well. He didn’t like that he wasn’t himself but he hated the idea he’d frightened this harmless little guy even more. Jett also assumed this was why Mattie seemed so surprised when looking at him earlier.

“Ve, no problemo Mr. Australia! We’re besta friends now!” Italy lunged for Australia all too suddenly, shocking the other nation as his arms wrapped around him tightly. Jett wasn’t a fan of hugs but hell this guy was just too childishly kind to push away so gradually his arms wrapped back around Italy, awkwardly. Hardly five minutes and already Italy was claiming the best friend role huh? He was crazy…in a good way…maybe.

“Italy!” The two broke away at the sound of the shouted call. Looking up Jett saw Germany appear looking around for Italy of course. He caught sight of the two of them and for an instant Jett swore that the German’s whole body turned to stone, it was just for a second and then he was freely moving again.

“Feli! I’ve been looking for you for at least ten minutes now.” Germany was growling as he strode towards the smiling Italian.

“Ah Luddy. I made a friend!” Germany’s angry scolding’s stopped as he looked between Jett and Feliciano. He looked, understandably, surprised. It was well known that Jett didn’t make friends but between Italy and Prussia it seemed he was unwillingly gaining a lot of them as of late.

“I see…” Germany’s voice was softer now before he gave a sigh and walked to Italy’s side. “I brought you the drink you wanted. Next time if you wander off while I’m getting you something I’ll use it to beat you.” Italy began to cry out in fear and Jett could only sit back in wonder and watch their strange exchange.

Much like Jett it seemed that Germany didn’t have the ability to hate Italy’s childish notions even though by all rights Germany should have been the most infuriated by them. Instead they’d become best friends, to the point that Germany would seek out Italy in a crowd and go to fetch drinks for him. It was almost like….  
Without thinking Jett asked bluntly.

“Are you two gay?” Germany damn near choked.

“N-Nein!” For such a serious and controlled nation Germany sure did turn red fast. “It’s not like that at all…”

“Ve, gay?” Italy mused, putting a finger to his lip before smiling his usual smile. “We’re very happy, ci! We’re best friends!”

“Feli, that’s not what he…” Germany began to explain in a distressed voice but seeing the oblivious smile on his friend’s face the blonde nation gave up fairly quickly. “Never mind…”

While Germany and Italy spoke Jett took notice of Germany’s strange clothes as well. He wore something very similar to his uniform but it was messy, something he’d never allow in his true attire. The jacket hung loosely around his shoulders and his white singlet was not at all military worthy. On his head he wore a kind of cap that almost completely obscured his eyes and while Jett had lost a scar it seemed that Germany had gained one on his cheek.  
So even the uptight Germany could get a little dressed up, well at least that made Jett feel more at ease about his own clothes.

“Ah, if you’ll excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom.” Jett excused himself, standing from his seat giving a small nod to the two nations.

“Bye-bye Australia!” Italy waved enthusiastically after him and Jett gave an awkward little wave back as he made his way through the crowd.

“He really is a weird nation.” Jett laughed to himself as he left the party room and began the search for the bathroom. Thankfully there were multiple bathrooms and it didn’t take Jett too long to find what he needed. All the while he thought about what he’d said to Chris, about being social and making friends.

Perhaps it wasn’t so hard. If everyone was as friendly and willing as Italy then maybe he could tolerate one or two friends. Prussia could make a good mate and Italy might actually prove to be a light hearted friend. Despite the years of hardening himself Jett found himself smiling in an almost giddy way.  
It was foolish and naive he knew but all the same Jett was becoming more open to the prospect of new friends and a new life. He’d spend more time with Prussia and Italy, he’d let Chris drag him places and he’d stop growling at everyone that passed him.

While he thought this over and washed his hands in the sink Jett’s gaze caught his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. When he looked at his face without the scar in sight the usual mix of uncertainty and disgust returned in him. Would Italy avoid him again with a scar on his face? Was it really alright to cover it or was that just hiding who he was? It was all rather troubling so Jett opted to ignore it at least for that night.   
Don’t sweat the small stuff right?

Laughing at himself, Jett dried his hands, pushed back his hair and adjusted his tie before exiting the bathroom, right into Arthur’s chest.

Jett’s brain froze briefly before being thrown into chaos. He’d been so sure that Arthur wouldn’t be there, that he wouldn’t waste time with this sort of nonsense that he’d been completely at ease in his false sense of security. The two male nations were both frozen, too startled to even step away from one another at first.

When Jett’s mind finally cooled off enough to process logical thought his gut reaction was to high tail it out of there but the second he began to turn away Arthur’s hand latched onto his arm, pulling him back.

“Hey, hold up a second there.” Arthur urged, none of the anger from their last encounter noticeable in his tone. “I didn’t realise you’d be here tonight.”

Jett grit his teeth together as he angled his gaze away from Arthur, this wasn’t going well. He was just about to yank his limb free when he remembered Chris’s pleading face. He’d promised to hear Arthur out…he’d said he would but Jett hadn’t thought it’d be that damned night!

He’d actually caught sight of him earlier without knowing it, he wore brightly coloured pinks, blues and white. The cheerful clothing not at all suiting the grumpy nation, even his hair had fallen victim to the pinkish shade, of course Jett hadn’t recognised him when he’d caught a glace of him across the room.   
Who could expect him to when his usually so serious big brother looked like a clown? Jett wished he could enjoy seeing it but with Arthur staring at him it was impossible to take any enjoyment out of the situation.

Arthur was thrown off when Jett didn’t immediately shove him away but took it as an encouraging motion. Perhaps he’d finally calmed down since their last meeting and was ready to hear reason, so the Englishman continued.

“I was hoping you’d take me up on that offer. Of having a chat, some tea a nice sit down and a good talk?” Jett could hear the eagerness in his brother’s words but he still didn’t budge. He couldn’t say no but he sure as hell didn’t want to say yes.

“America’s…” He choked out finally. “This is…America’s house. No tea.” He felt like a robot, hardly able to form the words he wanted to speak around the English nation.

“Ah, yes quite right…” England murmured thoughtfully as he stood straight but suddenly his gaze was pulled down to Jett’s clothes and it was Arthur’s turn to freeze in shock.

“Those clothes…?” Jett flinched realising that Arthur had recognised the clothes and he quickly jerked away from him, turning to face the other way. Arthur was sharp however and quickly took notice of how he hid his face. “Turn this way. Come now, face me. You’re being rude.” Jett ignored him, hoping his silence would be enough to deny the request.

It was not.

Jett felt familiar cold hands taking hold of his face and angling his head back towards Arthur. A growl formed in his throat but he could not pull away, a hand resting on Arthur’s arm as if to stop him but ultimately it proved to be useless, he had no strength to escape.

Arthur’s green eyes searched his colonies face and then widened when they noticed the lack of a scar and for the first time the Englishman’s heart visibly ached in his gaze. Even Jett with all his blinding hatred could see it and in the next moment warm arms had enveloped his form.

Jett’s wide eyes stared off uselessly into the space over Arthur’s shoulder as he was held by the elder nation. What was this? Some sort of apology? Jett couldn’t process just what it was that his big brother was trying to pull.

Was he going to teach him another lesson?

The thought caused Jett to snap, his palms pushing flat against Arthur’s chest, forcing the elder away from him. Arthur stumbled back and was about to start raging before he noticed the protective way that Jett held himself…so that was what he thought? Clearing his throat Arthur worked on remaining calm.

“I’m sorry, that was too forward of me. It’s just…your face and those clothes.” He spoke slowly, looking at the face that held no visible scar and was dressed in the clothes he had bought as a gift for his younger brother…it made Arthur feel weak with nostaliga. “I’m sorry, I do not know what came over me. Please, I implore you still take me up on that offer.”

“Why?” Jett croaked. “What could you possibly have to say to me over tea and scones…?”

“There is a lot that I wish to speak with you about.” Arthur told him softly. “Please just allow me to…”

“No!” Jett snapped without thinking. “I promised I’d hear you out sure but…this is too much. Don’t just touch me so carelessly you bastard! After all you did there’s no way I’d want you embracing me!”

Arthur cringed at the cruelty in Jett’s voice but did not respond past that. He’d gotten dressed up as a fool just to come and see if he could catch Jett. He’d lied about not expecting him of course, he didn’t want to scare him off after all but even now it seemed useless. The boy was just as stubborn as always.

“Jack please I…” Jett’s harsh glare made England stop and despite the bad taste it left in his mouth Arthur corrected himself. “Jett please, all I ask is that you give it a chance, that you give me this chance.”

Jett hesitated when Arthur used the name he’d chosen. He could not remember a time before then that he’d used it…was Arthur really so desperate to reach out to him? It made Jett frustrated that the man who’d done so much wrong could appear so victimised. Gritting his teeth together and clenching his fists Jett tried to cool his head, he’d promised Chris.

 _Promised Chris…._  
_I won’t break anymore promises._

“F-Fine.” Jett choked out. “I’ll hear you out. But not here, not now and _never_ at your place for tea, got it?” Jett felt some confidence return at he pointed at Arthur. “If we’re going to be talking it’ll be over the phone. I don’t want you in touching distance of me when we’re communicating. Got it?”

Arthur tried not to let his anger get the best of him, their shared temper was what had caused this so he took a few deep breathes and nodded.  
“It’s a deal.” With that Jett took his escape, walking past England as quickly as he could and back towards the party. There he’d kept his word.  
He didn’t have to do any more than that!

As Jett took off into the crowd of humans and nations alike Arthur was left with fists clenched and barely controlled anger. He was frustrated, after so many years he felt as though he was getting nowhere with his colony, if things continued this way he may just have another problem as he did with Alfred. He’d not lose another colony.

“Damn it!” Arthur hissed, slamming his fist into the wall by his side before slumping against it, his breathing choked and ragged as Arthur struggled to ease the raging, barely controlled emotions in his body. What was he going to do if he couldn’t even have a conversation with his own little brother?

Jett was having similar thoughts at the time, though rather moving in the opposite direction.  
What was he going to do if he had to have a conversation with his big brother?  
The thought made him shudder as he pushed his way through people, he couldn’t leave yet because really he’d only just arrived, it’d been little under an hour and the night was young. Meaning Chris wouldn’t be persuaded into leaving for the world.

So Jett decided to do what he’d planned to that whole night, get drunk off his ass.

Making his way over to the bar Jett breathed a sigh of relief at the glorious sight of alcohol. Strong, weak and everything in-between all at his fingertips. Wines from France and Italy, beer from Germany and hell even some Vodka from Russia. Although when he saw that it really came from _Russia_ with a little smile face drawn on the side and everything he decided not to try his luck with the possibility of the scary nation having poisoned it.

Seating himself down at the bar Jett took his time choosing what he’d start with. If he had the time why not enjoy slowly getting drunk until he couldn’t walk straight? No need to rush pleasure.

“Well, well.” Jett immediately recognised the sound of that voice, the sound of the word well coming out more like ‘vell’ with that accent.  
“Looks like you read my mind.” Prussia sat down next to Jett, a beer glass already in hand and his cocky grin plastered over his face.

“Where’s your rapist gang?” Jett asked in his usual cold way but he couldn’t help but give Prussia some special treatment. He was here to drink with him again, it seemed Gilbert was always close by with a case full of that lovely stuff whenever something bothered Jett.  
It was almost too convenient the times Prussia would show, always after some sort of fight with Chris or dark moment with England…Jett might have been creeped out by this but it had to be coincidence. Prussia didn’t strike him as magical or a stalker…. _much_ of a stalker. Maybe he was a magical stalker…? No that was getting a little too ridiculous.

“Hey! The term is ‘bad touch’ and we’re not a gang, we’re a trio!” Prussia defended him and his weird ass friends, only causing Jett to bark out a laugh.   
“What?” Prussia asked, eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny?”

“Usually people would say something like ‘I’m not a rapist’, not correct the terminology.” Jett told him while his first drink was set down before him. Something light to start of his gradual intoxication. Prussia laughed himself but denied nothing.   
“Filthy pervert.” Jett jabbed before downing his beer.

“Ah keseseses.” Gilbert chittered away before taking a drink of his own. Jett took notice of Gilbird sitting on his head and smile faintly when the little yellow ball of features bounced its way down onto Prussia’s shoulder just to chirp at him.

“Hey there little guy.” Jett cooed, reaching out to scratch the little bird’s head. “Not about to choke down anymore of that British food are you? Brave il’ thing.” Gilbrid chirped at him but almost responded like a cat when scratched on the head, leaning against the gently probing finger.

“Ark! That isn’t food, it’s death on a plate.” Gilbert grumbled as he slammed his beer glass down, apparently still nursing an injured pride from the outcome of his first attempt eating scones.

“Scones aren’t exactly arsenic you know.” Jett responded in a snide comment, wanting to poke at that injured pride a little more.

“Oi.” Gilbert turned to Jett, deadly serious for a moment. “Scone or Scone?”

“What…?” Jett looked at him, wondering just how much he’d been drinking before that beer.

“Well which is it? Sc _o_ ne or Sc _on_ e?” His accent must have made it hard but Jett was able to figure out he was simply asking which why it was pronounced. With emphasis on the ‘O’ sound or not. Naturally Jett snickered and the conversation escalated into the usual tossing back and forth of swears and degrading insults. Mates should act no other way towards one another.

After a solid hour of their slow decent into drunkenness and constant back and forth jibs, Jett and Gilbert were perfectly at ease in their usual drunken meeting.   
After a particularly poor choice in drink and a small mistake, Jett burned the back of his throat with Russian vodka and ended up chocking. Giving Gilbert a good laugh at his expense, this ended with Jett trying to throttle Gilbert in defence of his manly pride.

“Kese…ese.” Gilbert still laughed through his choking. “You look like such a wimp in those clothes!” Gilbert told him once his throat was clear of those grabbing hands. “You look like that loser Austria!”

“If he heard you saying that he’d have a fit.” Jett told him with a sly grin, all thoughts of strangling the albino gone from his mind. For the time being.

“Ah yeah. That whole now kangas in Austria bit right?” He asked thoughtfully, no doubt wondering how he could get under Austria’s skin with this.

“Kangaroos mate.” Jett corrected him while trying to climb up onto the stool he’d been perched for the last hour before knocking both of them to the ground. However his body betrayed him and he felt the world tipping despite his not moving.

“Ah crikey…” He muttered, knowing that he was about to collapse and sure enough he felt his body toppling down and dizziness blinding him. Damn his drinking…damn his need for drunken bliss. For a brief second he saw Prussia reaching out as if to catch him but only succeeded in getting knocked down with him. Great now they’d both end up as a drunken mess on the ground. Perfect.

Thankfully his head didn’t snap painfully against the floor and he didn’t feel any kind of rough impact, instead he felt something firm but fairly soft catch his useless sack of a body. Whatever had saved him also ended up on the ground though under the weight of both drunken Australia and Prussia.

Groggily Jett looked up, his head still spinning as he tried to make sense of why he hadn’t been punished by gravity for his drinking. When the world stopped shaking and churning Jett found himself looking at the agitated and concerned face of Germany.   
The German had caught both Prussia and Australia, protecting them from harm but still unable to keep them from falling completely.

Jett lay against Germany’s chest and Prussia on his, it must have looked funny and if he’d been sober Jett would have been furious but thankfully beer solved that problem and instead he was laughing.

“You’re….such a light weight! Keseses…” Gilbert slurred with a dopy grin on his face. Jett couldn’t help but laugh as well but somewhere in the back of his hazy mind Jett’s logical self-argued that was impossible. He’d drunk more and faster in the past and been able to walk just fine but here he was, a complete mess and hardly even able to see straight.

“I’m no...light weight…” Jett grumbled, pushing his palm against Gilbert’s face as if he wanted to mash his face in like clay. “Bastard…”

“You two…” The two idiots turned at the sound of Germany’s angry voice and found he was working hard not to throttle them both.  
Jett felt Prussia’s arms tighten around his torso slightly when he looked towards his little brother. When he looked back at Prussia to complain he saw a strange expression on his face, it was almost angry and might have been considered scary if it was not marred by his drunken state. Germany’s expression wasn’t all that much kinder.  
Were the brother’s fighting?

“Bruder…you.” Prussia began to growl something but their little topple hadn’t gone unnoticed. In fact it seemed most of the party was now focused on them.

“What the bloody hell are you wankers doing!?” Came the all too familiar enraged shout, no doubt preparing to scold whoever had brought that tone about.   
England appeared through the sea of peering and murmuring faces, glaring towards the three fallen men, hands on his hips. If seeing Jett in the mix fazed him in the slightest he didn’t let on.

“Look at you. You drunkards are making a complete mess of everything. Acting like some sort of-“ This was going to go on for a while, Jett was sure he’d pass out before England finished ranting. That was until something caught Jett’s attention.

“I should have expected such behaviour from Prussia and Jack but Germany you should know better than that.” England was in the middle of reprimanding Germany when Jett noticed it. Germany, Prussia, those were countries names but he referred to Jett by human name, not even his _own_ human name!

Drunk and dizzy he was Jett stood up, swaying and staggering as he tried to find his footing. Germany made a move like he was going to stop him but instead just settled for making sure he didn’t fall flat on his face.

“Australia.” Jett grumbled, able to shake some of his drunken mind into working properly. At least when rage clouded his eyes more than alcohol he was able to clear some of his mind. England stopped shouting when Jett stood, seeming to realise his mistake and quickly began to backpedal.

“R-Right you’re quite right lad. Australia, what I mean to say…” It was no good, Jett was drunk and still sore from their earlier encounter, reaching forward he grabbed a fist full of the Englishman’s dicky clothes, finding that the bright colours insulted him in this drunken state.

Why was his _oh_ so serious brother dressed as though he smiled cheerfully and baked cupcakes? He shouldn’t wear bright colours…it was wrong. Disgusting.  
“I hate it…” Jett growled to himself and the grip tightened. “These clothes….” Gritting his teeth together Jett’s strong grip tore the pink fabric, shredding it straight down Arthur’s chest.

“J-Jack, this is outrag-“ England began, his face turning bright red. Nakedness was more a trait for France than England and Francis did seem to be quite thrilled by the half nakedness of England, in the back Jett could have sworn he saw the pervert grabbing for a camera.

“Wrong!” Jett growled angrily. “Quit saying it! My names Jett. J-E-T-T.” Somewhere in the back of his head Jett was aware he was just being drunkenly violent but he didn’t try to hit his brother, just shake him violently and shred his awful clothes.

He couldn’t hit Arthur.  
Right?

“Australia, dude!” Jett herd the sound of the American’s approaching. Next he felt hands on his shoulders, no doubt Alfred trying to pry him away from Arthur.  
_Him,_ Jett could punch alright!

He turned to do just that shouting some profanity at the Yankee but his balance was off and the drunken haze was beginning to take effect again. His punch missed by a mile, not even coming close to America’s face and he began to fall back towards the ground.  
_Ah come on….give me a break…._  
Jett thought, feeling sick as his stomach began to do flips, he’d throw up if the world tilted anymore.

For the second time that night something firm stopped him from collapsing and injuring his sorry ass, this time he didn’t have to check to know it was Germany. Jett was hicing and choking out a constant string of unintelligible vulgarities but his world was getting darker.  
Jett had been around the drunken block enough times to know he was going to pass out for sure now.

“Please excuse my mate.” Jett’s word was beginning to twist and shift into something almost unrecognisable but his ears still picked up Chris’s voice. It was a familiar tone. Chris was laughing but it was apologetic, the type of voice you used when your friend was being a clown in public…yeah that was a fair fit.  
“He’s usually much better at holding his drink…..I’m sure he…..damages…….Arthu..….rother…” The voice became more and more distant to Jett and his eyes began to slide shut.

The German’s arms that held him almost felt like stone for all the trouble they had holding him up. Jett almost hurled right there in his half conscious state when he was lifted up bridal style. How utterly humiliating.

“Ah…please mate….no need…..I can….” Jett heard his brother talking almost nervously, trying to reason with someone.

“Nein.” The single reply came across clearly in Jett’s brain. Germany was speaking with Chris now, what was being said he couldn’t be sure but it sounded like all business.  
Finally his body decided to pack it in and Jett knew he’d be copping it tomorrow but for now the blissfulness of sleep took him over and he hadn’t even lost his lunch.

One of the best drunken pass outs yet.

 

…  
…

 

Chris had arrived with Alfred to find Jett attacking Arthur. When Chris had asked him to talk with their big brother he’d meant _speak_ with him, not pound his face in. Still it was obvious was from step one that he was drunk.  
Jett’s face was red, he was slurring and stumbling and his eyes were even half lidded, he almost seemed unconscious on his feet for all the good he was in that state.

Thankfully he’d also been a useless fighter when drunk so Alfred was never in danger of being hurt by Jett when pulling him away from Arthur. Too bad the same couldn’t be said for Jett who was in plenty of danger to himself. Sure enough he’d tried to strike Alfred and just fallen and mercifully been caught in time. Chris had been too far to grab his falling brother and thought for sure no one else could or would….except for that man.

Chris watched as his passed out brother was gathered up in the German’s arms. Chris thought he could read people fairly well, he’d always thought that honesty was a good trait but also knew that it didn’t hold much weight between countries so he’d learned quickly to read people.  
And Germany….?  
Well he was getting nothing.

Germany’s face was obscured under that hat most of the party but even without it Germany’s stony face could hide even the strongest emotions. Chris had never quite known how to feel about the other nation, but hell he’d stopped Jett from flattening his face twice now. So that should have made Chris certain that his intentions were truly only to help this drunken fool.  
Yet he didn’t get that vibe at all.

Perhaps he was paranoid? He’d rarely been suspicious of others or known to judge them quickly or at all. Yet his eyes stared at Germany’s passive face with distrust and uncertainty. Something about him…was wrong to Chris. And to be honest he’d never felt it before.   
He and Germany had done trade and even some warfare but he’d never felt as uneasy around him as he did now. What had changed?

It was then that Christian’s eyes landed back on the blacked out form of Jett that unconsciously curled against the person who held him.  
Chris’s jaw clenched and his fists tightened. What was this feeling? It was unusual for Chris to feel any kind of negative emotion but right then…he felt a crushing sense of unease.  
Could Chris be afraid that Germany would hurt Jett? Why would his brain even think that way?

 _Jealousy?_  
A little voice suggested to Chris.  
No, it couldn’t be that. Chris had no reason to fell jealous over his brother or Germany.

 _Fear?_  
It tried again.  
Fear that maybe Germany would hurt Jett? That wasn’t right either, he’d saved him twice that night and seemed to be prepared to do it again.

 _Then perhaps…_  
The voice paused before continuing.  
_It’s both?  
Fear that he’s too close to Jett. Too interested lately….fear that there’s a reason to become jealous?_

Christian didn’t like this. He didn’t like this serious feeling in his chest. He just wanted to go and lay in the sun and go swimming with Jett at the beach. He wanted to hit cane toads with cricket bats and make fun of Zea together.  
He didn’t want to think about anything sad ever. He would not become a distrustful country or a cruel country. Chris shook his head roughly and smiled, his bright cheerful smile.  
He’s be the country that was friendly and warm to everyone no matter their history.  
That was who Christian was, he was that Aussie spirit so he’d not allow his mind to get side tracked with darker thoughts.

Germany was telling Arthur that he’d take care of the drunken Jett when Chris came over with his apologetic smile. Of course he apologised over and over again to Iggy who kept threatening to never let the royals visit them again if they couldn’t control themselves. Laughing Chris tried to ease his big brother’s embarrassment and anger. However he noticed Germany and Jett fairly quickly, it looked like Germany was organising to leave early.

“Ah, please mate.” Chris smiled as he approached Germany. “There’s no need for you to go outta your way for my brother. I can take care of him from here so please don’t stress yourself.” Chris tried to be polite and thankful, after all Germany seemed to be looking after Jett before he arrived. Whatever doubts he had were no doubt wrong and he’d only be insulting Germany if he acted on them.

“Nein.” Chris almost flinched. Germany stood like a statue with Jett in his arms, almost like he weighed nothing at all and Chris knew that wasn’t the case at all. Just how strong was this guy? The answer hadn’t been harsh or delivered in a way that could be considered even rude. It was polite and Germany seemed to be trying to reassure Chris though he didn’t come across as an awfully comforting.

“Mein bruder is no doubt to blame for this mess.” He continued to explain after a brief pause, seeing the startled expression on Australia’s face. “As a form of apology for that I’ll take care of him. Once he is sober and back to his usual state I’ll apologise to him in mein bruder’s place. Gott knows Gilbert won’t do it. Please allow me to make this small gesture of regret and amends.”

He wanted to say no.  
Chris _really_ did but…Germany seemed to want to make this right quite badly and Chris knew a fair amount about the damage a drunken big brother could cause, so perhaps they could find some common ground there if nowhere else.   
Eventually Chris smiled again, giving Germany his approval.

“Ay mate. Just tell me when you want me to take the poor guy off your hands, ‘right?” Chris opted for a causal approach, after all this was nothing more than a kindness being shown towards his idiot of a brother.  
“I’ll come and pick him up right away.”

“Ja. Danke.” Chris blinked, it actually took him a good few minutes after Germany had turned away for him to understand he’d said ‘Yes. Thank you.’ Chris had never exactly learnt German and had very little contact with him and as a result had ended up about as informed as America was on the German’s way of speaking.

When he finally wrapped his brain around it Chris had turned with his mouth open to say something to Germany who had already begun to take his leave. Chris stopped speaking as he watched Germany’s form vanishing with Jett. Chris felt a shudder run up his spine as he stared.  
Why could he not shake this uneasy feeling that coiled in his stomach?

Why was it whenever he looked at Germany’s cold eyes he felt as though…he might just been swallowed alive by the man.

“Ah, lay off already.” Chris grumbled, scratching at the back of his head as he scolded his own brain. “You’ll ruin the firework display if you keep fretting over strange feelings.”

_Bang!_

Speaking of which. Chris’s grin was born anew at the sound of the popping and crackling of sparks in the air. Looks like Alfred finally got his firework display working!   
All serious thoughts were tossed aside and Chris grabbed himself a beer and went out to lay on the grass and enjoy the fireworks.  
Don’t sweat the small stuff right?

 

…  
…  
…

 

It was soft….and warm….and _good_.  
Jett curled into the soft warmth that was the heavenly bed he was laying in. Sure his head was aching and his mouth tasted of ashy death but at least wherever he was lying wasn’t the ground or some sort of liquid.  
He’d woken up in far worse.

Now if only the sun would shut up.  
Groaning Jett’s arm came up to protect his eyes from the greeting rays of light that were hell bent on destroying him in this hung over state. No matter how he angled his arm however the light managed to find its way to him, ruining his chances of remaining in the bliss of being half asleep.  
He didn’t want to wake up, the blankets and pillows were so damned comfy and Jett didn’t want to deal with a morning hang over.

Actually, since when was his bed this soft, warm and spiderless….?  
Come to think of it since when was his bed not occupied with Chris and squishy beyond belief?  
The thought made Jett’s eyes shoot open and his hand quickly searched for the form of his sleeping brother but found nothing. With his blurry vision Jett began to notice that he wasn’t in the dusty, filthy room that had been his home and was instead in some place full of light and clean as a whistle.

Jett sat in the bed for a solid minute, just blinking at the strange place he’d woken up. It would have made sense if he woke up at America’s or even in a back street somewhere but…he didn’t know this heavenly setting.  
The white light assaulted his eyes, the silk like bed sheets made him feel dirty and the lack of dangerous animals and mould growing on the walls was somewhat distressing.

“Oh god I died.” Jett groaned. “I died and I’ve gone to hell.”

“I apologise. I didn’t realise that my home would be hellish for you.” Jett jumped at the deep voice from his side. The jump cost him however and he gave a low groan before flopping back down on the bed, he would be sick if he moved too quickly.

“Careful, you’re still not well.” The calm voice warned him and the sound of a door clicking shut caught Jett’s attention. Slowly this time he looked towards the owner of the voice.

“Ah…Germany.” He remembered the blonde nation saving his sorry ass a few times last night. “Should have guessed.” Sighing Jett tried to sit up but found Germany pressing a gentle palm against his chest, urging him to slow down even further.

“I’m not a kid, I don’t need to be babied.” Jett snapped without meaning to. He was hung over and embarrassed but he didn’t want to insult the guy that had dragged his sorry ass to bed. Seeing Germany’s surprised expression Jett immediately backtracked, not meaning to be such an ungrateful little shit.  
“Sorry…” He muttered. “Hung over ya know?”

“Ja.” Germany’s expression softened slightly before he set something down on the bed side table. A plate of freshly cooked food and what looked like painkillers on the side. Oh he was a fucking angel!   
“Please take it slow, when you’re feeling a little better come see me. I’ll be downstairs in the living room.” Germany was fairly blunt and left without another word to Jett, leaving him to relish in the gift that was drugs.

The food was good and the pills even better. Before long Jett was able to get his sorry self out of bed and walk around fairly competently. Though his body felt strange.  
A hang over was nothing new to Jett but being drunk so quickly from so little was and being this hung over was even more unusual. Not to mention the way his flesh seemed to tingle, almost like it was numb.

“I ain’t no light weight.” Jett growled to himself while scoffing down the last piece of toast. “The hell did I drink that was so strong last night?” No matter how much he thought about it nothing came to mind, not even the Russian vodka he’d accidently ingested. Giving up his memory searching Jett took more time to look around the room.

It was still insanely clean and organised but not as bare as he originally thought. Some pictures hung on the walls and there was a dresser and work desk against the wall. In fact it was a rather lovely room, almost like a high class hotel but then again Jett wasn’t the best judge. If it had a mattress and roof he’d sleep in it comfortably.

“Does Prussia live in this sort of room?” Jett couldn’t imagine the awesome Gilbert living in something so plain or so organised…but at the same time he and Germany did seem to share a need for organisation so perhaps it was clean. He was fairly sure it’d at least be better than his own room. Chris never put his clothes away either so it wasn’t like it was just-  
Chris.

“Ah shit.” Jett groaned, immediately pushing himself off the bed and walking to the door. His world did slip off to an angle slightly when he moved too rapidly but he seemed to be able to at least keep his balance now.   
Jett knew he’d left Chris at the party and he was worried that maybe America blew him up with the fireworks or he also got smashed and didn’t have anyone to drag his ass home, Jett had to go and check on him.

When he opened the door to his room Jett found that the rest of the house was just as organised and vermin free. This began to annoy Jett, as he walked his way down the halls be found the urge to tip paintings on their side and kick something into the corner almost unbearable. As he walked past a window Jett dragged his finger along its edge hoping to collect at least some dust on his fingers. Nothing.

“Would it kill them to let some spiders in here?” Jett snapped. This place was too spotless, too organised and it was making him feel trashy in his plain singlet and baggy pants.  
Wait…what?

Jett stopped to really look at himself for the first time. The flashy clothes were gone and his hair was a messy again, free of its ribbon from the night before. Instead he was wearing a modest white top and plain black pants, clothes that he did approve of but was sure weren’t his.

“Did someone…change me?” Jett thought out loud, unable to wrap his brain around the idea that someone may have stripped and redressed him. Just thinking about it caused his face to slowly fill up bright red. His hands shook at he held the unfamiliar clothes tightly in his balled up fists. Had he seriously been so drunk that someone had done this for him like he was an infant? The embarrassment and shame of the idea was crippling the usually stubbornly proud country.

“Ja.” Jett, for a second time, jumped at the sound of the smooth voice despite knowing exactly who it was this time around. The voice came from a door to Jett’s right. The hall only had a few doors and it was obviously larger than Jett’s home but the door the familiar accented voice came from was slightly ajar, obviously the way to the living room.   
Sure enough after the reply the door swung open fully, revealing the blonde haired German. He was dressed properly, wearing his uniform even though they were in his home, did he only feel comfortable in it?

“You’ll have to forgive me but the clothes you were wearing…they looked as if they were special to you. I didn’t want to take the chance of them being ruined. Thankfully you’re about the same size as mein bruder.” Germany explained, not once appearing embarrassed about his actions. He pushed the door open wider, offering Jett entrance to the room. Inside was yet another lovely room, it was organised and clean just as the others but at least the furniture looked soft and well used.  
Jett was sure he would have exploded if the living room was as sterile and stiff as the halls.

As Jett stepped past Germany into the room he didn’t notice the way that the German casually locked the door and spoke to cover up the sound of the soft click when the door shut and sealed.   
“Gilbert did offer to help but…” Germany trailed off as he stepped away from the door once it was locked, that should at least keep Gilbert out of his hair if he was to wake up. Ludwig wasn’t going to waste this chance. He had wanted to move slowly at first but after last night’s display Germany was convinced he’d be able to achieve his goal more quickly.

“No!” Jett’s arms immediately crossed in an ‘X’ shape over his chest. There was no way he was going to let that vital region snatching bastard see him in the nude. “I mean…it’s better that he didn’t help, ay? He was drunk to after all.” Jett laughed rubbing the back of his head as he began to feel sheepish.  
He’d troubled Germany so much the night before with his behaviour and all because he was feeling sorry for himself.

“Germany I…” Suddenly the blonde raised his hand to silence Jett.

“Please take a seat. It’ll be more comfortable if we talk there and there is no need for you to apologise. Mein bruder caused this I have no doubt.” Jett was lead to the comfortable seat by Germany before the nation took the seat opposite him. The room was fairly dim, the curtains mostly drawn shut only allowing a bit of that ungodly bright light to slip in, Jett found it did wonders for his hang over headache and wondered if Germany had drawn the blinds for just that reason.   
For a second Jett felt compelled to force all the blame onto Gilbert and let him deal with the results. But in the end Jett’s sense of fairness won out and he shook his head.

“It wasn’t Prussia’s fault.” Jett explained with a sigh in his voice. “I was already ready to drink myself into a coma when he showed up, though to be fair he was already drinking with the same intent. It wasn’t his fault, we were just both heading for the same end goal.”

Germany was silent for a while, staring at Jett with those piercing blue hues of his. Prussia always looked at him with red eyes that were often full of mischief and a cheerful nature that stayed even when he became serious but Germany was different. His eyes were hard as stone and even if he were smiling or joking Jett was sure those cold eyes would remain unchanged.  
The two brothers were so different and it began to make Jett feel uneasy, why did they both have to stare at him sometimes?

“It’s none of my business.” Germany declared finally, sitting straight as he decided what it was he wanted to say and Jett almost expected to be scolded for his reckless drinking. “But I feel compelled to ask. Just why were you trying to drink yourself into a coma?”

“You’re right.” Jett responded coldly, giving an immediate reply. “It really is none of your concern.” The two of them sat like that for a while, unable to move past the cold atmosphere at first. Jett wanted to be polite to Germany but he also didn’t want to admit he’d been sulking over his run in with Arthur.

“Australia.” Jett’s form flinched at his country’s name, he was so rarely referred to by it. “I know that it’s bold of me to say, but I already know.” Gradually Jett’s green eyes travelled back to Germany’s blue ones. The German met his gaze but seemed to have a slightly softer expression, as though he pitied Jett.

“What did Chris tell you?” It clicked in Jett’s brain, Christian had been left alone with Germany the day he came asking about history, surely he must have run his mouth for Germany to look at him with such a pitiful expression!  
He was going to fucking throttle that little…

“Everything.” Germany admitted before adding as an afterthought. “Enough.”   
Leaning forward in his seat Jett let out a heavy sigh of agitation.

“Look, there’s no need for you to pity me because me and my big brother had a falling out. If someone asked you to try playing nice with me that’s great and all but I’m not interested in-“

“Nein.” Germany cut across him smoothly. “You’ve misunderstood my intentions.” Germany’s tone took Jett off guard, it wasn’t full or pity or scorn instead it sounded serious and all business.

“If your actions of sudden kindness were not prompted by my meddling family then why am I here?” Jett didn’t trust anyone easily and when confused he trusted even less and right then Germany was confusing him right good.

“I have a proposition for you Australia.” Germany leant forward in his seat slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he fixed Australia with a firm look as though determined to make Jett see how deadly serious he was, as if Jett wasn’t already convinced that Germany lacked the ability to _not_ be serious.

“What is it…?” Jett was almost intimidated by the serious nation, it was as though whatever he said next was going to pass no matter what he said. Jett rarely allowed himself to feel small but right then he certainly did.

“Let’s become friends.” Jett almost shook his head to remove the bugs that must have crawled in his ears blocked his hearing but his headache warned him against doing that and so he was left to stare at Germany, doing all he could not to let his jaw hit the ground.  
Germany watched at Jett seemed to turn to stone purely from shock and a rare ghost of a smile curled on his face.

“W-What…?” Jett choked, unable to find his voice properly. Why was it that this perfectly serious country that had little to no contact with him suddenly wanted to be friends? What did that even mean? Shouldn’t he ask Chris about this..?   
Jett’s head was reeling, he’d never just been outright asked to become friends with someone other than Italy and that guy spoke too fast for Jett to really get caught up on it.

“Australia. Please become my friend.” Germany rephrased the question from a demand to a request.  
This type of invitation was almost some kind of confession!

“Why would you want to become friends with me? My country is so far from yours and I’m not even Chris, he’s the one that you should-“ Jett began to gush, finding he’d become embarrassed.

“I’m not asking Chris. I’m asking you.” Germany responded smoothly. “You’re Australia, I’m sure we’ll have to ask Chris as well but I wanted to ask you, Australia.” Jett’s heart was pounding in his chest, he was being approached as a real country.  
He was being treated as if he was still a real nation, not a lost convict that hung around purely out of Chris’s kindness. Just for a second Jett felt as though he was real and seen again.

“But…this doesn’t make sense… Politically…” Jett tried finding his protests weakening. He knew it didn’t make sense as a country but as Jett he was wondering if he really should reject Germany.

“It’s never been frowned upon to make friends with other nations. You tend to make friends wherever you go.” Germany reminded him, Australia was a rather non-offensive country.

“Chris does.”

“ _Australia_ does.” Germany insisted, his almost kind expression no longer reminding Jett of pity. He wasn’t sure what type of look it was Germany gave him but it didn’t make him feel lowly or unseen.   
“We’ve never had terribly strong relations it’s true but we’ve never really argued either. I’m simply asking to create a strong relationship with you.” Jett wanted to agree, actually he felt almost completely sold…but.

Arthur’s face flashed into his mind briefly, along with the rest of the allies.   
The world wars were over true but hostilities seemed to remain and as England’s little brother Australia couldn’t go out and form a pact with Germany, it would make the other members of the SEATO treaty uncomfortable. Not to mention Arthur would probably spit and fume, he trusted Germany the least next to America.

“G-Germany…” Jett began.

“Ludwig.” Jett looked at him, startled. “Bitte, call me Ludwig.” Jett felt as though he’d just been offered a great privilege but he still knew what he had to say.

“I want to be your friend but…” Jett prepared to deny Germany. It was just too great a risk and it might stir things up.

“England.” Jett stopped at Germany’s understanding voice. “Your big bruder right? He would never allow it, he would never allow his little bruder to make a choice like that.” Jett felt anger boiling up inside of him, was Germany implying that he had no control over his own country?

“I can do what I like, it’s my country!” Jett exclaimed before realising he was being childish and calming himself. “It’s just the allies would be uncomfortable if were to get close.”

“The allies? Do you believe that they fear you’d take my side if war were to break out? The war has ended.” Germany told him gently. “But…if we were to become friends and war was to arise…well, I’d be able to have your back Australia.” Germany smiled that rare small smile. “I won’t abandon you.”

Jett was quiet for a long time before speaking carefully.  
“Are you proposing a treaty between us?”

“Ja and a friendship. As countries and as we are now.” Jett looked up again to see that small smile, it seemed Germany rarely grinned at his brother did. “It would seem that mein bruder has already become close to you and Feli is trying to do the same. Also your relationship with Japan has become fairly warm in the recent years.” Jett thought back on how Feli became close to him the night before and the times he and Prussia had drunk themselves silly.

Was he really making so many friends….?

“It only seems natural that we all become friends, ja?” Germany eased himself out of the his seat and held his hand out towards Jett. “Well? What is your answer Australia. Will you become mein friend?”

“I’m not a very good friend. I’ll probably treat you badly.” Jett told him while eyeing the hand carefully. Germany merely smiled as though he’d said something he’d heard before.

“Ja. We’ll both have to be lenient with the other.” Jett couldn’t help but smile and completely ignoring all of the warnings is mind gave off about what England and America might think he reached out and took Germany’s hand.

 

…  
…  
…

 

“ _I absolutely forbid it_!” Jett had to hold the phone away from his ear for fear he’d go deaf. Just as he had promised England he has given him a call.  
While dialling the numbers in his hand had trembled and he felt ill but Chris’s giant puppy eyes stared at him the whole time, obviously absolutely over the moon that his brother was prepared to call Arthur after just a few days.

But the only reason Jett had called so fast but just so he could inform England about the treaty with Germany that was about to be passed.  
The encouragement from the Australian people and Chris had been overwhelming, they didn’t see it as a military move but instead just social, Australians loved being friends with other countries and they loved traveling so it was causing a great deal of excitement in the people and thus in the two figures that acted at the country, they could feel their people’s approval.

Jett had been nervous about telling Chris at first but after a brief time where Jett was sure Chris was going to refuse his little brother had grinned and declared that it was great to be making more friend. Jett never guessed how uneasy Chris was, still not certain about Germany. But becoming friends with Prussia and Italy was definitely a pro for Chris so he’d approved full heartedly, wanting his brother to finally have friends. He was anti-social little bastard so Chris was going to encourage him wherever he could.

England on the other hand….had not been so thrilled.

“England…” Jett forced the words through his teeth. The second he called Arthur the Englishman had been ready to talk about anything. He’d been excited and hopeful and even Jett had hoped that this would go well…it hadn’t. The second the treaty with German passed his lips Arthur had exploded.

“No. Absolutely not!” Arthur fumed on the other end of the phone. “Why would you try to make a treaty with that Kraut? You’re already in enough treaties as it is!”

“Yo English dude, why you shouting?” Jett heard Alfred asked faintly from somewhere on the other end of the phone. Since when did those two hang out?

“Australia’s trying to enter a treaty with Germany!” Arthur shouted back to America and Jett heard some sort of shout of confusion followed by a short scuffle over the phone.

“Aussie dude!” Jett again held the phone away, finding Alfred’s voice ten times more headache inducing than Arthur’s. “There’s no way you can do that!”

“Why not? Germany isn’t anyone’s enemy really, why is it a probl-“

“What about our treaty? Come on we’re in the ANZUS together, why would you need that guy?” Alfred complained and Jett was sure he could hear Arthur struggling to get the phone back.

“The ANZUS treaty works for _you_.” Jett growled through his clenched teeth. “There’s no rule in there that you have to come and get our back when we’re in trouble but we’re forced to help you.”

“Well….yeah but I mean…” Alfred struggled for something to say to that. “I’m a hero so I’d help ya…” He didn’t sound so confident and Jett wasn’t convinced.

‘ _I’d be able to have your back Australia._ ’ Jett remembered how Germany had smiled when saying that, he’d promised to do what American wouldn’t or couldn’t. Even Alfred who was once his own brother wasn’t prepared to promise to protect him if push came to shove but a man who had once been an enemy in war time was ready to defend him.

“Give me that you bloody wanker.” Arthur had finally wrestled the phone from Alfred and once again tried to reason with Jett. “Now lad…” He began sounding exhausted. “You can’t enter a treaty with Germany.”

“Why the hell not? I’m my own country so why is it even your choi-“

“Because you belong to me! What I say goes.” Arthur had slipped up, his anger getting the best of him and like so many times before he had said something he couldn’t take back and did not mean.

Chris frowned watching how Jett’s expression screamed bloody murder and all Chris’s hopes for he and Arthur patching the gap died with Jett’s next harsh words.

“Then I’ll just leave you.” Jett told him, voice deadly quiet as he said those words.

‘ _I won’t abandon you._ ’

Jett’s anger was fuelled by the promise that Germany had made him where his brother had opted to send him across the sea and ignore him for a great deal of time before trying to lord over him. His fingers tightened on the phone and he began to say things that could not be taken back, much like Arthur did when angry.

“I am no longer your little brother I am not your colony I am Australia. This is _my_ country, _my_ people and this is _my_ choice. If you don’t like it then you can just go and shove the SEATO treaty up your fucking as-“ Sudden the line went dead and Jett looked to see Chris tearing the cord from the wall.  
“Hey what the hell are you-“

“That’s my line you idiot!” Chris snapped back at him. “Were you seriously about to cut us out of the SEATO treaty? Just like that? Are you insane!?” Jett was fuming but even he struggled to remain angry when his idiocy was displayed before him. Chris was right. “We’ll be lucky if we get out of this without getting into huge trouble…”

Jett began to feel bad, he’d put his carefree and all too forgiving brother in a bad situation all because of his temper.   
“We have to abandon the treaty with Germany.” Chris decided finally and Jett tensed, that was the last thing he wanted to hear. “It’s not worth the trouble.”

“It is!” Jett insisted, surprising Chris. “If we have a treaty with Germany we will have someone to rely on if we’re in danger. America won’t do shit and you know it and Zea is right here next to us, they’d only get in trouble as well. We need more protection than that and we’ve been offered a treaty. It’s never so easy to just be offered a treaty you don’t have to fight for. Come on Chris, this is the best offer we have.”

Chris thought it over, knowing in some ways he was right but if they played their cards wrong…things could escalate to a real disaster. Hell maybe even war. They’d never been the base for a war and Chris didn’t want to start now.

“Maybe later. Not now, not while England and America as so opposed…we just have to wait and bide our time, that’s all. Let’s just kick back and relax until there’s a better time.”

Jett was fuming, he didn’t want to hear this. After such a long time of Chris begging him to make friends Jett was now denied the first offer of friendship he got? This was becoming beyond cruel. Why was his own little brother trying to restrict him as well? Why did his little brother make all the choices for Australi-   
Jett’s thought cut off as understanding dawned on him.  
_Chris thinks he’s Australia…not me. So what am I to him? A ghost?_

_‘I’m not asking Chris. I’m asking you. You’re Australia.”_

And just like that Jett made a choice.

“You’re right mate.” He said quietly while walking for the door.

“Bro?” Chris frowned looking up at the retreating form of his brother. It was like a switch had been flicked, Jett never just agreed with him. “Where are you going?”

“To tell Germany the bad news.” He answered with hand on the door knob. “I can’t reject him over the phone, wouldn’t be right. It won’t take long.”

“Ah. Wait mate…!” Chris tried to stop Jett but his brother vanished out the door leaving Chris standing alone in the house wondering just what it was that his brother was thinking.

Chris and Jett had always been close, almost close enough that they seemed to read the other perfectly but all of a sudden…Christian didn’t understand what his brother was thinking or feeling at all. Where was his brother’s head and heart if it was no longer with Chris?

For the first time since they’d come together as Australia…Chris felt entirely alone.

 

…  
…  
...

 

It was quiet in Germany’s house.  
Jett could hear the damn ticking of his own watch it was so quiet. He and Germany sat where they had a few days earlier on opposite sides of the table staring at one another.

“Australia, are you sure?” Germany asked softly. His deep accented voice holding a great weight in the noiselessness of the room.

“Yeah.” Jett replied, his voice just as soft. “I’m not sure…if it’s the right choice but it’s what I want.” Jett was staring down at his hands and couldn’t see the way Germany’s usually passive face bore a dark smile, one that harboured a sense of victory.

“If it is what you’ve chosen, I will back you up until the very end Australia.” Germany promised him calmly. This had gone perfectly, infinity better than Germany had hopped and for once he found keeping a completely blank face to be difficult.

“Shall we?” He gestured to the document that sat between he and Jett. “To make it official.” Germany’s eyes followed Jett’s hands as they pulled the document close and picked up the nearby pen and his sharp eyes picked up the slight shaking in Jett’s fingers. Australia was uncertain despite his words and Germany couldn’t have him backing out now. He had to be clever.

“Australia.” Jett flinched at his name, obviously still not entirely used to it so Germany corrected himself. “Jett. You do not have to do this. He is you bruder, I will understand if you cannot…”

“N-No!” Jett cut across him and Germany supressed a smile, with the correct wording even the most stubborn man can be twisted into doing what he willed. “I can do it. He’s not my brother anymore…I’m just going to make it very, _very_ official this time.”

“You will be in danger. You will be breaking countless rules….” Ludwig acted the part of the concerned friend as he spoke. “I wish to be your friend and I wish to have this treaty badly but even without it I will still be with you. There’s no need to put yourself in a position you may regret.”

“I’m serious! I’ve been meaning to do this for a while. It’s okay…I don’t need a treaty in which I get the short end. I don’t need America leaving me for dead or England controlling me….” For a second Jett seemed almost like a scared child. Just as Ludwig wanted him. “Will you…?”

“Ja. You are already mein friend. This treaty will simply make you family. I am not your bruder…but I will protect you as one would a little bruder.” It was easy. Ludwig knew what Jett wanted, he wanted a big brother that wouldn’t toss him aside or forget him. All Ludwig had to do was play on that and Jett would fall right into his hands.

“This is what I want. I’m just excited that’s all.” Jett gulped as he placed pen to paper. His excitement was fear and Ludwig knew it but he only smiled internally all the more. The soft scratching of pen to paper was made and just like that Jett had signed a treaty with Germany.

“There’s only one thing left to do now.” Germany mused, unable to help some of his malicious tone slip into his words. His own excitement was true to the core and Ludwig waited anxiously for what Jett would say next.

“Yeah. I’ll do it today…” Jett reached into his pocket and grabbed a small flip phone. Germany was amused that he kept such an old model but oddly he approved. At least he’d not be distracted by those flappy something apps. Flicking it open Jett tentatively dialled a number from his memory, he’d actually memorised it despite saying he wanted to forget.

Pressing the phone to his ear the two nations sat in silence as the sound of the ringing echoed in the quiet room. Jett’s head jerked up slightly when the person on the other end answer.

“H-Hello….Arthur?” Jett frowned slightly and closed his eyes as he spoke. “I…was wondering if I could take you up on that tea and talk offer….?”

And Germany’s mask split into an eerie grin.  
Ah, revenge was so terribly sweet.

 

…  
…  
…

 

Arthur was ecstatic.   
Sure he’d been furious only hours before but here Jett was. Sitting in front of him, the boy looked as though he’d not felt worse in years, sitting awkwardly while clasping the cup tightly and keeping his head low. He looked like the model of regret and Arthur couldn’t be more thrilled.

This meant that he was regretting what he’d said and felt bad for being so cruel to his big brother over the phone and he’d even gone so far as to take him up on tea and scones which he’d be refusing for longer than Arthur could recall.  
The great British empire was unable to stop the smile that appeared on his face and he didn’t even try to hide it when Jett arrived that day, he’d not felt so relieved in years.

The soft click of a cup being placed on a saucer was the only sound in the brightly lit room. He and Jett sat opposite one another around a tea table by a window that allowed bright light to stream in, for once the clouds had broken to allow the light in. Arthur liked to think that it only proved this was a good day for change.

“I was so glad when you took me up on my offer Jett.” Arthur was still cautious, using the foul name that his little brother had claimed even though he disliked it. But if he called him Jack the boy might just storm right back out, he was rather touchy.  
Jett seemed edgy and flinched even at little sounds, a cup being rested on a saucer, a bird chirping outside and even when Arthur began to speak.

“Would you like a scone?” Arthur asked, of course Jett would refuse him. No one touched his scones no matter how much effort he put into making them. He learnt early on to hide his crushing disappointment when rejected.

“Ah…y-yes please…” Arthur was surprised when Jett stammered out a yes but his smile only widened. Jett was such a kind boy and he remembered that as a child Jett never spat out his cooking. All but glowing Arthur placed a scone on the plate by his tea, he was aware that Jett was watching his movements closely, afraid he might suddenly lash out but Arthur was too pleased to feel any anger towards Jett right then.

“Now then.” Arthur eased himself back into the cushioned seat, legs crossed and tea cup in hand. “Since we’re comfortable we can start talking.” Arthur tried not to let his giddiness show but it must have leaked out somewhere.  
“Tell me about Australia. What is it that you’ve been doing recently?”

How many years did recently include? Arthur cursed himself, recently for the two of them could go back decades but thankfully Jett didn’t comment on it like he usually would. Perhaps he was trying just as hard as Arthur?

“W-Well…” Jett gulped, seeming to be trying to find something to say. “Steve Erwin died…”

“Ah yes, I did hear about that. Quite tragic really, was it a…uh crocodile?” Arthur asked, he was trying to be sensitive but that man had scared him half out of his wits at times. Who would play with those beasts as though they were house cats?

“Naw.” Jett smiled in a grim sort of way. “It was a ray. He pulled the stinger out, man it was such a strange mistake for him to make. Chris was crushed.” Jett seemed almost at ease for a moment, he didn’t stutter once but he quickly recoiled back to earlier state. It was going to take more work to set his mind at ease.

“Your royals came to visit…” He added after a bit of thought. “The kid’s a cute little ankle-biter…” Arthur smiled warmly, glad that his brother liked the royals, that was important. “But did you seriously have to name him George? Haven’t we had enough kings named George?” Jett asked and Arthur chuckled, his colony really was all brass.

“Perhaps their next child will have a name you like better.” Arthur encouraged Jett before taking a sip of his tea.

“Not if you name that kid Elizabeth or Edward.” Both Arthur and Jett looked up and couldn’t help but laughing. Jett was tense as could be but even he cracked a smile and Arthur’s heart eased.   
Thankfully their conversation didn’t dry up for quite some time and with each new word and tale from Australia Arthur felt his heart grow lighter.   
He’d be able to say it soon.

Soon Arthur would be able to tell Jett that he never wanted him to go.

That was until a nerve seemed to be hit.  
“And how are you and New Zealand getting along? You’re not arguing again I hope.” New Zealand was a very well behaved boy and much more controlled than either Australian boys and Arthur was glad he’d asked him to keep an eye on his brothers.

“Yeah Zea is fine. He took Chris out to see Indonesia the other day. He makes sure we’re not late….so much.” Jett almost smiled when thinking about his two brothers but quickly seemed to remember something important and the smile vanished. It confused Arthur, talking about Chris and Toby never failed to have Jett’s mood improve but on that day it seemed to sour it even further. Were they fighting?

“And Chris?” Arthur asked cautiously. Could it be true that he and Chris had a fight? They’d never fought before, sure they’d been fighting but only as rough housing brothers, Jett had never been truly angry with the other. Still at Chris’s name Jett looked down at his tea in silence.  
“Jett….?”

“Why would you ask about Chris?” Jett asked suddenly, his voice wasn’t cold or angry, just kind of…empty. “I thought that you would ignore him. After all he stemmed from that filthy native didn’t he?” It was Arthur that flinched this time and dread replaced joy, were they really going to go back to fighting. Noticing his unease Jett laughed but it was a bitter, uncomforting sound.

“Don’t worry. I’m not asking about that, I just mean….why ask about Chris? I’m Australia to you right? So you shouldn’t even ask about Chris.” Something about that made Arthur feel uneasy, Jett was prone to great fits of rage and depression but he was never so…hollow.

“Lad…” Arthur sat forward and placed the tea down on the table. “Is there something that you want to tell me?” Arthur watched as Jett’s shoulders tensed. “I know it may not seem it at times but I am your brother, I know you and right now you’re behaving strangely.”

Jett’s hands tightened around the cup slightly and he took a shaky breath. It was as though all the progress was gone and they were back to square one. What had set him off…?  
Arthur quickly backtracked in his brain, he hadn’t called him Jack or done anything obviously wrong but still Jett was behaving in this unsettling manner.

“….I did it.” Jett spoke quickly as if finally reaching a decision.

“Did what?” Arthur asked while watching how his brother’s jaw clenched and his eyes flicked about the room rapidly as if he was looking for something. An escape maybe? When his green hues rested on Arthur the Englishmen instantly knew what ‘it’ was before he heard it and his heart almost stopped.

“I signed the treaty.”

The silence that fell after that was suffocating, Arthur was gapping at Jett and the boy was staring at his cup again. when England found his tongue he lashed out, unable to stop himself.

“You bloody well what? Even after we told you….even after all of that and even when I told you not to!” England was fuming, seeing red but also he was terrified. The words over the phone he thought had been taken back were now so much more real and Arthur had a feeling of dread crawling up his spine.

When Jett looked at him Arthur saw something he’d not seen in many years and wished to never lay eyes on again.  
The look that Jett wore was almost identical to the rebellious expression Alfred had worn the night he came to tell Arthur he was leaving.  
Only…it was somehow more unsettlingly fragmented – as though some part of the Australian had smiled broken.

_No, no, no, oh bloody hell no!_

“I told you I forbade it!” Arthur felt like he as losing ground, losing Jett even faster.

“Yeah you did and you’re not going to let me have any relationship with Germany… Are you…?” Jett asked, surprising his brother with the lack of fight behind his words.

“You know I damn well won’t!” Arthur replied coldly, perhaps Jett would back down first. But the past should have warned him against such a foolish noiton.

“I know.” Jett’s body slumped forward over his tea and spoke in a tone that sounded almost like defeat, a weak tone of acceptance that Arthur didn’t immediately understand.

“Jack you…” Arthur opened his mouth to try and end this ridiculous notion but suddenly there was pain. A hot white pain that burned into his cheek and Arthur immediately knew he’d been cut. His hand pressed to the cheek that was now spilling crimson blood and for a brief dazed second Arthur was unable to respond. He saw the blade that had left Jett’s hand imbedded in the cushion of the seat by his head and he watched at the male dropped his tea, hands diving for his hip where Arthur knew his machete would be hidden.

Once the shinning metal was brought free of its hiding place and brought up high above Jett’s head Arthur’s brain finally caught up with the rest of the world and he was able to dive away from the deadly blow that Jett had intended to strike him with.  
The sharp blade tore into the cushioning of the seat where Arthur’s head had once been. Arthur toppled to the ground and quickly scrambled away from the other as he wrenched the blade from the chair and turned on Arthur.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Arthur screamed but when he looked at Jett’s face and saw the lifelessness that sat in his green hues he realised that Jett wasn’t even seeing him. Not really. Whatever had pushed Jett to such extremes had him blind to the consequences of his own actions. He was completely mad.

“Stop this at once!” Arthur tried again but his efforts to get through the Jett only resulted in him coming within swinging range again and Arthur barely escaped the second blow. Jett was in no real hurry, every miss he’d walk towards his big brother in silence loading up another bone crushing swing.  
Arthur dove behind the tea table during one of his downward swipes and successfully got the blade buried in the thick wood of the table.

“It’s a lesson.” Jett finally grunted while trying to pull the blade free of the table. “It’s just another lesson to teach you.” Arthur immediately knew he was refereeing to the ‘lessons’ that he’d forced onto Jett during his own time in the darkness. Guilt gripped at his chest but he could display none of it.   
He had not been in his right mind in that time, the stress of losing not only Alfred but also having Jack sent away had led him into a dark place of his mind he had not wished to go. He’d been completely barking mad when he did those things….and now Jett seemed to be in his own dark place.

Jett was finally able to pry his weapon free and looked around for Arthur, finding that his brother had managed to gather himself to his feet but he did not take up arms against him despite no doubt having a few stashed away somewhere. It confused Jett as to why Arthur did not raise blade nor gun against him as he advanced but instead opted to try and reason with him. There was no reasoning, Jett was taking his freedom and he was going to destroy Arthur in the process.

“Jack stop this!” Arthur raising his hands while backing up away from the slowly advancing Jett. “This is lunacy, whatever has gotten into your head remove it. I no longer wish to feud with you, I want us to return to how it was before.” Arthur pleaded. “Little brother, please…this is madness…” For just a second Arthur was sure that he saw some kind of spark in Jett’s dulled hues, some kind of understanding so he pressed on.

“Little brother…please come back home with me.” Arthur pleaded quietly. It hurt, it was so painful to see Jett in this condition and even more heart wrenching to realise that this divide…would probably never been mended.

“I’m not your little brother!” It seemed as though something cracked in Jett’s mind and the words came out in a roar as the Australian suddenly lunged for Arthur. Taken off guard by the sudden move Arthur found himself slammed back against the wall by the force of Australia’s blow, the wind leaving him as he landed against the hard surface. When had his little brother gotten so strong?

“I’m not your colony, I’m not your brother, I am not your _Jack_!” Arthur had barely got his bearings back when the sight of Australia loomed over him, eyes wide with insanity and blade held up high with the intent to murder. “I am Australia!”

Arthur was trapped, against the wall and Jett. He realised with startling clarity that if Jett did not stop now…he’d be dead. Could he really be killed? Would be truly be murdered by Jett?  
At the last second something that shone gold shot between Jett and Arthur, pushing Arthur clear of the true force of the blow but it wasn’t enough to save him.  
In his lunge Jett’s blade cut into Arthur’s face.

For Arthur at first there was no pain, just the eerie understanding that some dreadful had happened to his face and for that short second there was a blissful numb that spread through his being.  
And then the pain came and when it did it crippled Arthur in an instant.  
Arthur let out a cry of complete, blinding agony and he fell to the ground in a heap, hands clutching at his face as everything around him became stained red. He screamed and groaned, squirming on the ground desperately trying to ease the searing pain that coursed through his whole body.   
His face was on fire and he couldn’t see anything but red. Blood gushed through his fingers and stained his carpet but he’d been saved, he still continued to breathe.

 _Get up, get up Arttie!_ Arthur recognised that voice, one of his fairy friends was urging him to get up and run. The thing that had passed between he and Jett was no doubt one of his magical friends and they had saved his life. Growling in pain Arthur forced his body to obey, he’d lived through too much and too long to lay there and die now. It was slow and bloody work but finally Arthur was back on his feet, one hand pressed to his face and the other feeling its way along the walls of his home.

He could hear Jett cursing behind him, something must have been stopping him. Perhaps his friends had been able to buy him some more time to escape? Arthur didn’t stop to have a look but even if he’d tried he wouldn’t have seen anything, he was blind.  
Feeling his way to the door Arthur had to rely on his knowledge of the house to escape with his world completely in the dark. Finally his fumbling hand found the door handle and from there it was clear running but suddenly he felt a presence rise up behind him.

Jett had advanced on him again and Arthur could imagine how he must have looked, stained with his brother’s blood and blade in hand, madness in his green eyes.  
In Arthur’s imagination however…he resembled someone else that Arthur knew. A man standing with a sword in hand stained with his crying younger brother’s blood. Arthur knew the man that now blended with his image of Jett was himself, it was England.

Gritting his teeth together Arthur pushed himself from the door frame as a swift rush of air passed dangerously close to his hand, Jett was still trying to cleave him in two.   
Stumbling out into the familiar hall Arthur began to run, the stumbling steps hardly able to get him the ground he needed to escape the Australian but….

“H-Help!” Arthur shouted, the order sounding out through the house. So rarely did England scream for aid but in that moment he felt a fear he’d not felt before in a long time.

“No one is coming to help you England.” A dark voice whispered to him before a blunt force slammed down in-between his shoulder blades, knocking Arthur to his knees. At least it was the blunt side and not the sharp edge of the blade that had caught him.  
Arthur wasted no time in trying to get back to his feet but the cool surface of Jett’s blade rested against his throat causing him to freeze.

“Your little woodland friends can’t save you a second time. Who would come to save you? Splendid isolation was it…? Tsk…what would you know about being isolated? You boarder so many countries, you are so close to so many but still you’re alone by your own choice. But me…? My boarders are a vast wasteland of water, what would you know about _isolation_?” Jett’s cold voice continued to whisper to him and Arthur felt tears beginning to form but they burned him. They burned worse than a fire on his wounded form, why did it hurt so bad to cry? Why did the searing agony from his wound intensify tenfold when the salty tears began to slide down his face and mingle with his fresh blood.

“You have no one to save you. Your precious allies…all of those that you surround yourself with only to keep at arm’s length, none of them will come to save you. Because you push everyone away don’t you…great British Empire?” Jett’s blade began to cut into his throat and Arthur had no doubt he planned to end it right then and there.

“Go your own way... Right? Big brother?” Jett whispered to him before the pain in his throat became unbearable and Arthur was sure he had cut him wide open.

_BANG!_

Suddenly Jett’s weight was gone and the sound of a gunshot echoed through England’s house. Still unable to see Arthur could only desperately try to guess what had happened when warm hands grabbed onto his shoulders.

“Up, quickly!” Someone was urging him and Arthur recognised Alfred’s voice. Alfred had saved him…? Had he killed Jett? Had he shot the country that had once been his little brother? Arthur had plenty of questions but no strength to ask them, he was sure that he’d lost all of the blood he could afford to lose. He’d die if this continued.

Alfred must have seen it as well but he couldn’t stop to help him, they were running down the hall and Arthur knew that they’d be close to the door soon…but it felt as though they were still in danger. Arthur was finally to regain some of his sight and when he looked behind them with one opened eye he saw Jett on the ground, bleeding rather badly, no doubt from Alfred’s gunshot but he was pointing his own gun at the two of them.

That was the last thing Arthur was able to see before his world started to turn dark. He saw Jett claim the shot. He saw that he had the opening he needed and Arthur realised with a crushing sense of helplessness that they were going to be shot down by Jett.  
And yet….the gun never fired. Not once.

“Don’t go dying on me Britain!” Alfred’s distant voice growled to him and suddenly Arthur was off his feet and being carried bridal style by the running American. The last of Arthur’s strength left him and his world completely faded away.

 

…  
…  
…

 

“What did you _do_.” Prussia stood in the doorway to his little brother’s study. Inside the room was dark and Gilbert could only just make out the outline of West’s form. His body was tense, fists clenched as he looked in.  
With his back to Gilbert, Ludwig smirked. It was a coldly wicked expression but he did not let his brother see it.

“What are you talking about bruderline?” He asked, hardly even attempting to keep the smug tone from his voice.

Gilbert grit his teeth with a small growl. Australia had come to visit them and had not even said hello to the awesome Prussia, instead he’d gone straight to Ludwig with a serious expression on his face. Gilbert was aware that Ludwig was doing something, he’d seen it before.

The way he carried himself and the rare times when he’d have an expression like….  
Like back at that time.  
Back when he’d been completely swallowed up in the Nazi party, back when he’d even moved against his own big brother. Gilbert remembered that look and he wore it now, whenever Jett was close or he was locked away in his study…and Gilbert was afraid.

Gilbert was afraid for his brother and he was afraid for his newly found drinking buddy.  
Gilbert did not want to move against Ludwig as he had during the times he’d gone mad with the need for the perfect Nazi world but it slowly seemed that was becoming more likely.

“You know exactly what I mean. What did Australia want with you?” Gilbert knew full well his brother had brought Jett home drunk from America’s party and he also knew that he put some idea in the Australian’s mind and now…whatever it was Australia seemed to be acting on it.

And what was more unsettling was that he also knew Ludwig had put something into Jett’s drink on the night of the party. Jett was definitely no light weight no matter how much Prussia teased him and he’d already had his suspicions that his brother was to blame when he was so conveniently there to claim the drunken mess of Australia.

“Ah. He came to discuss our treaty.” Ludwig answered smoothly, barely able to keep the smirk from his face. Surely by now it would be happening, surely by now there’d be blood.

“Our….treaty?”  Gilbert was suspicious on one hand but not entirely displeased. A treaty with Australia would be nice and it’d only make their drinking ten times more fun but…why had Ludwig offered a treaty in the first place?

“Ja. Everything is signed and set up for our new found friendship. Jett is merely tying up one last loose end.” His brother told him casually while setting down his pen and leaning back in his seat.

“What? ‘Loose end’?” Gilbert repeated, a stone dropping in his stomach as Ludwig offhandedly said something unthinkable.

“Oh yes. He should have killed England by now.”

 

…  
…  
…

 

Temptation- End.


	4. Rejection

Where was he?

Jett hadn’t been heard from since he left to tell Germany the bad news. Not only had he not come home long since the sun went down he wasn’t responding to Chris’s calls or texts.  
It was as though he’d just vanished.  
Chris knew that he should have tried harder to stop his brother from walking out that door. Chris trusted his gut instinct and back at that time he’d felt something was off about Jett before he left.

The Australian boy had sat in silence for hours now, only breaking that silence to occasionally try contacting his brother. The sun had long since set and the moon was beginning to dip down as well, almost a whole day had passed and not a word from his brother. Chris’s two strands of pointed hair twitched.  
Had something happened?  
Chris had even called Zea to try and find his run about brother and had just about as much luck getting onto him as he had Jett, was everyone just dropping off the face of the planet now? Chris had been restless since he left that day, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

 _I couldn’t understand him…_  
Chris thought as his hand tightened on the phone he’d been using to try and contact Jett to no avail, almost breaking the poor thing under the pressure of his closed hand.  
_In all these years…for the first time I wasn’t able to read his heart. Why? We’re one in the same so…why can’t I see what it is he is feeling?_

Only to add to his growing anxiety was the increasingly dark bags under his eyes. Chris hadn’t slept well and it was taking a toll on his dealing with this stress. After all Australia was accustomed to sleeping anywhere at any time he liked and all of a sudden his own bed in the dead of night was no longer a haven for sleep.

Chris closed his eyes tightly, holding his phone to his chest over the place where his heart beat as the usually bright nation fought back something like tears. He’d said it before, he and Jett shared a heart and life so to not understand his older brother…was unthinkable. It was something Chris had never even thought possible but here it was, the gapping feeling in his chest where Jett’s place should have been.  
Where was his big brother?  
What was happening to them?

_Bang, bang._

Chris straightened up at the sound of a sturdy knock at the door. Unrealistically Chris’s heart soared, thinking perhaps Jett had come home at last. He didn’t care that Jett wouldn’t have knocked, Chris was just excited to finally see that his brother was still very much with him. He could put all these uncharacteristic fears to rest once he saw Jett’s stubborn ass face and usual scowl, it’d all be fine again.  
So without a second thought he leapt out of his seat and raced to the door, almost tripping over the discarded thongs and lizards that scuttled about the floor in his hast.

As Chris dove for the door his hand wrapped around the handle and all but tore the poor thing off its hinges for a second time as he answered with great enthusiasm.  
“Mate! You’re finally home!” Chris cried out in greeting only to stop dead when he saw the person standing there was not Jett.  
In fact…his whole body became cold as he saw the figures at his door.

Among the few gathered at his door Chris saw Toby and Mattie standing at the back, the two of them quietly whispering to one another before noticing him and frowning. When Zea turned to look at him Chris’s heart dropped, Zea’s normally passive gentle eyes were bright and alive with anxiety, as though he felt that he was in some sort of danger. When his gaze met with Chris’s however the expression became almost heart breaking and Zea quickly turned his gaze towards the ground, Matthew touching his shoulder and murmuring something comforting to him no doubt.

At the front of the small group Chris recognised Francis and Alfred, the two of them standing side by side but once they looked at him Francis glanced over to Alfred who took in a deep breath of air and stepped forward, somewhere along the way they must have decided that it was best for America to speak with Chris. That or Alfred refused to be anything but the leader.

America stood with his head down and the usual goofy grin absent from his face, in fact when Chris looked at Alfred he saw a darkness behind his eyes that he couldn’t immediately explain. The sharp eyed gaze that stared into him from behind the glasses made Chris uneasy. It was like Alfred was sizing him up, studying something about the Australian.

“What is it…?” He asked finally, his own tone dropping into more of an uncertain sound. “Why are you all here…? Is Jett drunk again?” Chris almost sounded feverish as he asked hopefully, perhaps Jett had just made a fool of himself again? Yeah, that had to be it. Jett was always being a drunken fool when he was cranky.

“I’ll clean up whatever mess he’s made so just hand the drunken gronk over and I’ll take care of it.” Yet when Chris laughed cheerfully and rubbed the back of his head…no one even cracked a smile. They all remained serious.   
“C-Come on you lot, what’s with this heavy atmosphere?” Chris’s smiled slowly fell away when not even America lightened up, what was this…?

“Australia, Chris….” America murmured quietly when his searching gaze found no trace of guilt in Chris’s own eyes, Chris didn’t have a clue.

Instantly Chris knew that something awful had happened, in fact without even being told Chris seemed to feel it already. As though he’d already known and just ignored it in hopes that what he feared would just fade away.

It couldn’t be true.  
But still Alfred spoke the confirming words.

“Jett has betrayed us and England…” America told him, almost whispering the words. “Australia has declared itself free of England and broken its alliances.” There was no more running from it. Alfred looked at Chris almost as though he pitied him and dropped the countries names as he summed up the situation bluntly.

“Jett attacked Arthur.”

Chris’s world shattered.

 

…  
…(Back at England’s place)  
…

 

Jett had the shot.

His gun pointed right at Arthur’s face but the trigger was never pulled. Just for an instant Arthur had looked back at him and despite all of his readiness to murder his elder brother – Jett had choked.  
His finger hesitated on the trigger and as a result he lost both America and England as they vanished out the door, Germany was going to be furious no doubt.   
He had not been able to shoot Arthur.

Groaning Jett dropped the gun all together as his hand grabbed his shoulder. He had been shot and right when he was about to finish it. What rotten timing. It hurt worse than Jett had first realised but now the blood lust and adrenaline was no longer there to serve as a painkiller Jett realised just how agonising a bullet wound to the shoulder was.

“Arg, damn that American…” Jett cursed, his hand pressed against his shoulder where the blood flowed most strongly.   
“Why was he here of all people? Why did that Yankee save England of all the people in the world?” It didn’t make sense. Alfred had left Arthur years ago, Jett had been there, he had _seen_ it so why was America here to protect England now?

Furious with his bad luck and failure Jett tried to sit up but only found himself in a whole new world of pain when he tried.   
Falling back onto the wooden floor Jett curled in on himself, knowing that if he remained wallowing in pain for much longer he’d be found. America would no doubt have him dragged off into some cell, into some other prison.  
Jett’s eyes shot open, harbouring a determination that came from fear and loathing. He’d not go back to a prison, he’d never let them lock him away again. Not _ever_.  
With that thought urging him on Jett tried once again to move, finding that the pain was not unbearable as he carefully forced himself up onto two trembling legs.

His hand remained pressed against the wound as he stumbled, having to lean against the wall to stop from collapsing back down to his hands and knees. As he walked down the hall a long smear of blood followed his path, marking wherever he went but his was not the only blood trail.  
With every step he took Jett noticed more of Arthur’s bloodied trail under him. His machete had buried itself into Arthur’s face he was sure but frankly the whole event was somewhat foggy to his memory. Almost as though he’d not been entirely there when he’d done it – but rather watching from outside his own body.

Giving a quiet groan of pain Jett fell to his knees after misjudging a step and moving too quickly. Panting heavily the Australian tried to focus himself enough to find his way to the door. If he took too long they’d try to take him away to some cell. But his body seemed about ready to give out on him. The traitor.

On his knees Jett felt himself becoming light headed but still he was too stubborn to allow his eyes to close even as his head to dip down and meet the ground. Jett hadn’t realised the extent of the blood loss until he noticed how it began to pool around him, had the American hit him in a vital region? If he fucked up his opera house Jett was going to be pissed.  
Chris would be fuming if America ruined his Sydney Harbour Bridge or their footy team.

The thought made Jett chuckle, a bitter sound to his ears that immediately brought a wave of pain over his body, telling him that laughing was _not_ okay right then. Neither was thinking about Chris, he didn’t need the distraction of his little brother.

He had to get back home quickly or America might try to capture Chris in chains as well. The thought urged Jett to force his body up a second time but this time he did not get as far, only succeeding in falling flat on his stomach, arm all but clawing at the ground to drag himself but found it to be almost impossible.

His mind was slowly becoming increasingly dull but even with all his grievances with Chris…if they locked him up in chains Jett would surely lose his mind, he had to get back to his little brother….  
He had to go back and protect Chris….  
But he couldn’t even stand to protect himself.

With his body lying flat on the ground and his arm reaching out towards the door Jett was sure he’d either bleed out where he lay or be put back into chains. He’d completely failed and all because he’d choked on the last shot. Germany was going to be pissed with him, he wouldn’t want to be in an alliance with him anymore, he’d leave him to rot for fucking up so bad on something so simple.

Something moved ahead of him, a small flicker of light shifting in an out of his view. He saw a sort of..shadow creature, elongated and thin Jett couldn’t tell if he was seeing things. It shifted closer to Jett and he became afraid, unsure of what the shadow thing wanted.   
Somewhere in his foggy mind he was sure he’d seen a creature like it before. The shadow was joined with a glittering light that flew around it’s…what Jett thought was a head. The two turned towards the door as if surprised and then just like that they were gone.  
Jett was sure he was seeing things.

Jett’s vision blurred, if it was from unshed tears or his slowly shutting down brain he couldn’t be sure. How much time passed and for how long he was left there in a pool of his own blood Jett couldn’t say. It may have been minutes, it may have been hours…he had no clue but finally there was sound.

Jett’s eyes gradually opened not realising that they’d ever closed in the first place. He was just able to peer past his half lidded eyes he saw the front door pushing open, allowing a dim light to fill the darkened halls of England’s home. When had it become dark…?  
From the opened door Jett could just see the shine of the moon before it was blocked by a dark figure. Jett made out a pair of boots steadily approaching him, the heavy footfalls unrushed and progressively growing closer.

It was not the mass amount of men with guns and cuffs that Jett had imagined, it was a single person that had entered England’s home and walked towards Jett where he lay, barely breathing.   
The boots stopped right next to Jett’s line of vision and for just a while that was it, there was no sound, no guns drawn of cuffs placed on him, just the pair of combat boots by his head, the owner listening to him gasp and struggle for air.

Finally the owner of the boots crouched down and cold, large hands took hold of his body as though he weighed nothing at all. Jett winced and allowed a soft cry of pain to leave him as he was turned up by those hands but now he could see who it was that had found him.

“G-Germany…” Jett breathed, surprised to see the serious faced blonde staring down at him, blue eyes shining brightly in the dim room. Immediately his chest clenched up tightly, was he about to snarl at him and tell him he was no longer useful to him? Jett was afraid that Germany would kick him down right then and there.

Instead Germany didn’t utter a single word as he gathered Jett up in his arms, ignoring the blood that got on his uniform but being surprisingly tender as he lifted Jett from the ground, cautious of his most wounded area. Jett was silent, unable to process why it was he was being held as though he were someone of value, looking up at Germany he saw nothing but that passive face staring forward as he began to take Jett from England’s home.

Perhaps he didn’t realise Jett had failed?

“I-I…Germ…. England he…” Jett tried to choke the words out, to tell Germany he’d failed and should probably be dropped right then and there.

“I know.” Germany spoke calmly in a matter of fact way that caused Jett to fall silent in surprise. “England still breathes. I understand.” Jett’s expression became one of acceptance.

“I….failed…” He muttered quietly.

“That’s enough. You’ve never undertaken such a task before; mistakes are not to be unexpected. And…England was your bruder.” Germany told him, almost sounding gentle in his tone. Jett stared at Germany, still struggling to believe he wasn’t tossing him aside right that second. Germany noticed that bewildered expression as well and responded with a slight smile.

“Will you stop looking at me with those big scared eyes Jett? We are friends, ja? I’ve saved you just as I promised to, as a friend.” Jett’s form finally relaxed into Germany’s arms as he was carried away from his failure. Still sore and still bleeding but…surprisingly relieved.  
Germany kept his word, he’s protected him and had not left him alone….Jett knew he had made the right choice, even at the cost of his brother’s life and his treaties with America and the others.

Closing his eyes Jett let his head rest against Germany’s body, finally feeling at ease Jett allowed himself to fall into an unconscious state against Germany. He felt secure and safe right then.

“Of course I never expected you’d do it the first time around. There will be a second chance to destroy England in time. And America…and France…and all those allies.” Germany looked down at the sleeping Jett, he couldn’t be more pleased.

The boy was such a fighter but at the same time he was weak, so easily manipulated by him. Perhaps Germany was cruel? To bend Jett around his finger simply to cause suffering to those that had scorned him after the last world war. Yes, he was cruel but he’d not stop nor would he regret.

He’d given Jett the companionship he wanted, a big brother that wouldn’t abandon him and in return Jett would serve him well in his need for revenge.  
Allowing a single cold smile Germany looked down at the sleeping boy, he was bleeding profusely, no doubt having been shot by the American. But it was not all his blood in that house, just how much damage had he been able to inflict on Arthur?

The fact that England was still breathing actually didn’t come as a surprise or even disappointment to Ludwig, he’d expected as much from the beginning and if England had been killed things may have gotten out of control too quickly. Arthur was weak of heart, Germany knew this.   
Even if the uptight Englishman acted indifferent and cold Germany was never fooled, he’d not declare war on Australia quickly, it was more likely once he’d licked his wounds that England would try to reason with Australia and would get nowhere with Jett.

But the other one, Chris.  
Chris might be a problem. By this time the likelihood of him being approached by the other nations was high, he might even try to help them against his own brother.   
Germany might have found this to be troubling if not for a single fact, Gilbert. His big brother had told him all about Jett’s history with the native boy of Australia.

He’d killed one brother before, having him do it again may not prove too difficult.

“Nein.” Germany scolded himself gently, rather confident that Jett wouldn’t wake for many hours, giving him the freedom to speak with himself. “Murder isn’t the goal…merely a last resort.”

Germany was still not ready for war but provided Arthur did not react too harshly it could all be avoided. This was simply a matter of cautious politics and Germany would enjoy every second of agony that England and America would fall through.

But…now that he was here.

Again Germany’s eyes travelled over the bloodied form of his new ally and if all went well soon to be little bruder. The boy was violent, stubborn and rebellious so Ludwig may have trouble with him, he’d known that from the start but now that he lay quietly in his arms injured and relying on him Ludwig began to think that perhaps having him would not be a chore.

Jett had been necessary for his revenge, yes and Germany had been fine with becoming friends with him but he’d not desired him all that badly. Not at first.  
Now Jett was within his grasp Germany unexpectedly felt possessive, he felt the need to keep him and the looming fight with Arthur for Australia became all the more tantalizing.

His arms tightened around Jett’s little form slightly and Germany smiled, a full smile though it was tainted with the madness that had been slowly corrupting the honourable nation’s mind for years now. If he knew that he was mad Ludwig didn’t mind, he found this feeling of control and order to be delightful.  
Possession of another country being almost a primal, feral joy that all other nations would deny having but was very true for them all.

Before Ludwig’s mind could delve deeper into darkness the soft pat of water against his cheek drew the German’s attention to the darkening sky. It was beginning to rain and soon enough the sun would be rising, he had to return home quickly or they’d both catch their death. The rain was just beginning to come down hard when Ludwig’s home came into sight, the promise of the warm and dry rooms putting a quicker step in Ludwig’s stride.

“Bruder!” Gilbert opened the door when Ludwig approached the front step of their home. Gilbert was against this, Ludwig knew it but he ignored his brother. After all Prussia was dissolved years ago, he held no weight right then and what Ludwig said went.  
They’d had this argument in the past and the memory of Ludwig’s actions and grievous mistakes were still fresh in both their minds. He’d not lay hand on his brother as he had back then but he’d not head his pleas either, he was deaf to Gilbert.

“Where have you been?” He demanded, gearing up to growl at him before Gilbird hopped off his perch on Gilbert’s shoulder and began flying circles around Jett’s head. The little yellow bird chirping in distress and drawing his master’s attention to the bloody form of Jett, red eyes going wide before narrowing on Ludwig.

“It’s raining bruder.” Germany spoke with a voice of indifference; he’d not acknowledge Gilbert’s displeasure. “And I need to tend to these wounds, let us in.” Begrudgingly Gilbert stepped aside, allowing Ludwig entrance. “Danke.” Germany strode past Gilbert without a second glance, taking the injured boy upstairs to the room he’d been first placed in after that drunken night.

Gently laying Jett down on the mattress with no care for how dirty the sheets would become Germany began to strip the boy, his clothes drenched with both blood and rain. This was the second time now that Germany had stripped the Australian down while he was unconscious but it was the first time he took notice of what it was he was working on.

With the bullet wound caked over with drying blood Germany stood back to look down on Jett’s body, his eyes slowly traveling over each and every scar he had, finding that most of them he could guess what they’d been delivered with.

A scar from where he was whipped. A mark for where he was burned. Proof of where he tried to end himself. Many scars that all held something of importance, as to why they had not healed Germany was unsure. A country should have very few scars, only leaving scars from the most devastating moments in history but Jett was a canvas covered in them. Ludwig made a note to ask later.

Perhaps this bullet wound would scar also? Germany didn’t like to think so as he worked on cleaning away the blood. He’d remove the bullet and dress the wound on his own. Jett was out like a light so Germany had no fear that he’d cause too much more pain. Jett was a tough skinned country and even as Germany’s fingers pried the wound open in search of the bullet he did not stir. Not even a twitch as the bullet was found and slowly retracted from his flesh.

It was bloody work and Germany came away painted with Jett’s crimson life but it was also essential work. Germany actually found himself becoming strangely immersed in his work, even though most countries healed fast and did not require stitches Ludwig didn’t want to take the chance with Jett, especially not when his body bore the memory of many more injuries.

Taking a needle from the first aid kit Germany sat himself down next to Jett and began to force the sharp metal through his flesh slowly. Perhaps he was moving too slowly? Even though he considered it Ludwig moved no faster, he was moving slowly on purpose, he wanted to see Jett stir, he wanted to see the boy come around.  
And eventually his patience paid off.

Jett gave a little groan as consciousness came to him early. His body and mind protested, he should have stayed out but something hurt. Something was hurting him actively, not the pain of an already inflicted wound. His fingers gripped at the sheets under him and as the needled pushed into him once more Jett let out a cry, drawing Germany’s eyes to him at the realisation he was awake.

Jett was crying out in pain, squirming and twitching as he seemed to try and make sense of what was being done to him. Ludwig offered no support at first, continuing with his stitching while his eyes stayed on the pitiful expression of pain Jett made. He wanted to see it again.

Ludwig’s hand ‘slipped’ and the needled went in too deep, causing Jett’s body to jerk upright with a whine of agony. Jett’s hand that had been gripping the sheets under him latched onto Ludwig’s wrist, trying to stop it from inflicting anymore torture on him.

“Sto-“ Germany just made out the gasped cries that came from Jett. They were pitiful little begs and pleas for the pain to stop but it was one particular cry that caught Ludwig’s attention. “Art…hur….plea-“

So he was still so out of it to not even realise who he was with in this moment? Seeing this half conscious state that Jett was in Ludwig took full advantage of it.

“I’m sorry Jett.” Ludwig cooed quietly, running bloodied fingers through the smaller male’s hair, his fingers becoming tangled in the blood matted knots. It was almost an affectionate act and Ludwig applauded himself for such acting skills. “Just a little more of this and you’ll feel better. Arthur was cruel to you wasn’t he? Causing you so much pain.” Jett didn’t say a word, only panting softly as he clung to Germany’s wrist, almost using it for a life line.

“They were both cruel weren’t they?” Ludwig continued to speak quietly to the delirious Jett. “Shooting you right in this vital place.” To add emphasis to his point Ludwig’s finger buried itself in the hole he’d been working to stitch together, causing what must have been something unthinkably painful on Jett.

“Arthur and Alfred are cruel aren’t they? Doing this to you.” Germany twisted the finger to add to this point, finding himself rather enjoying the cry that Jett let out. Ludwig realised somewhere in the back of his mind where some part of his sanity resided that this was depraved and pervers but still he continued.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay.” Gently the hand that did not bury itself in Jett’s wound brushed against his patient’s face. Germany watched how Jett’s cries of pain softened to loan moans of agony, watching how screams became weak pants and he grinned. Perhaps he would get more enjoyment out of making Jett his enemy then friend….but this would be alright as well he decided before doing something rather peculiar.

Leaning forward Germany pushed Jett’s hair away from his forehead before placing a gentle kiss there. Jett seemed to settle down at the tender act, no longer whining in suffering. Ludwig smiled into the action before whispering softly to Jett.

“I’ll make sure they don’t cause this pain anymore.” Ludwig was warping the truth on just who it was that caused Jett to be in pain. He could only imagine what it changed to in Jett’s delusional mind and by the way that Jett’s weak arms lifted up, trembling at they wrapped around Germany’s neck he was pretty sure it had distorted the truth in his favour.

“Please…” Jett’s weak voice wasn’t crying out for anything to end anymore, instead it was pleading directly with Germany. “Lud…wig…”

“Ja. I understand.” Ludwig replied quietly, taking one of the hands that reached out to him pleadingly and placing it against his lips as he spoke. “I’ll keep you right here with me. You can be mein.”   
Jett’s partially opened eyes slipped close again and he was once more lost to the world of unconsciousness, allowing Ludwig to finish his work.

How easy it was to manipulate a broken soul.

Outside the door to the room that Ludwig and Jett resided Prussia collapsed. His form falling against the wall as he pressed a hand to his face, the awesome him did not cry. No this was just awesomeness leaking from the eyes, that was all.  
Gritting his teeth together Prussia tried not to lose himself as Ludwig had clearly lost it.  
Again. Why did his baby brother have to go mad a second time?

The awesome Prussia didn’t cry…this was just awesomeness.

 

…  
…  
…

 

“Arthur.”   
Alfred was standing by his bed, gaze located somewhere other than the Englishman’s face, anywhere else would do.

“What is it?” Arthur asked quietly, setting down the tea he’d been drinking. His hands trembled as they moved.  
“What do you want America?” Arthur sounded the same, addressing Alfred sharply and with a tone of annoyance but as he spoke there was a small hitch in his breath.  
“Look at me Alfred!”

Alfred was silent as he watched all the ways that Arthur was the same but entirely different. England looked frail and shaken. His fingers shook constantly and although he put up a mask of indifference Alfred didn’t miss the way that he’d sometimes reach up as if to touch his eye.

The eye that was no longer there.

Alfred finally looked at Arthur, the bandages over the left side of his face, covering the wound that ran down his left eye and blinded him. If it had been a wound from a human it may have recovered completely unlike a normal human’s eye but that wound came from Jett.  
Who was, despite their disbelief, still very much a country and so…they doubted that Arthur would ever see again.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Arthur snarled, seeing how Alfred’s pitiful gaze remained on him, he did not need that pity. “It’s just a scratch boy! Stop staring at me like I’m on my death bed wanker!”

“You told me to look at you!” Alfred cried in defence, finding himself getting angry when he spoke with Arthur. He couldn’t help but become angry when he saw his former brother in this state.

“I told you to look at me, I didn’t tell you to pity me with your eyes!” Arthur snapped back but surprisingly most of the heat in his voice was lacking while Alfred’s had become more angry. “Just look at me normally.” He added with an agitated sigh.

“What is it you want anyway?” Arthur was surprised that America had spoken to him, having been so silent all the time before this. Alfred had not left his side much since it had happened. America had dutifully remained with Arthur all the time he was unconscious and even stomached his way through the treatment of Arthur’s eye. No matter how much the Englishman’s screams made his stomach churn or how much blood he saw.

Alfred had not left even once Arthur’s single eye had opened and he’d began to function properly again. In fact the only times that Alfred left his side was to fetch food and drink for Arthur and one particularly long leave of absence that he’d only just returned from.

“…We went to Australia’s place.” Alfred told him quietly, causing Arthur to sit up straight in bed, ignoring the stinging from his head.

“You what!?” Arthur all but shouted, only to wince and regret his choice. Alfred was up on his feet as well, placing both hands against Arthur’s shoulders to try and get him to lay back down, however the Englishman was far too stubborn and remained sitting. He didn’t want to force himself up a second time so he’d not lay back down again.

“Dude, relax.” America muttered before glancing to the door. “We just went to see Chris and Toby. They’re here…to see you.” Alfred was not sure what to expect, not sure if Arthur would deny seeing the two or not.

“Send them in. Send them in.” Arthur said quickly before scooting back cautiously to rest against the headboard so he could be sitting when receiving visitors. “I want to see them.”

“Arthur…you should rest.” Alfred tried to act the part of a parent. Arthur always forced him to remain sleeping in bed when sick as a kid right? He’d make soup and tea and be tender with him so Alfred was pretty hell bent on doing the same. Though Arthur wasn’t sick, he was badly injured.

“I’m fine.” Arthur was obviously in stubborn denial. “Send them in.”

Reluctantly Alfred looked to the door where Francis stood, having been waiting for the yes or no from America. With a small nod of his head Francis turned to the door, opening it before making a small ‘come in’ gesture.   
Sure enough Chris and Toby came in, Matthew standing behind them though he split away from the two and stood by Francis as they cautiously approached Arthur’s bed. Not sure what to expect from their motherland.

“….You don’t look as bad as they said…” Chris muttered after the silence had stretched on too long. His eyes flicking between Arthur’s bandages and the ground, not sure which was ruder to stare at.

“They’re exaggerating the extent of my wounds to put me to shame.” Arthur growled and Alfred opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it and shut up. Surprisingly sharp of America.

Arthur looked back to Chris and Toby, noticing how tense the two were. Giving a small sigh Arthur gestured with his hand for them to come closer. The two exchanged an nervous glance before doing as they were told. Did they think he was going to bite or something?

“Where is Jett?” Arthur asked calmly. “Has he returned home?”

“Ah. N-No…I haven’t seen him since he left for Germany’s house yesterday.”

“Germany’s house?” Arthur repeated slowly. He remembered back to his meeting with Jett and the suspicions he had were confirmed. “Jett signed a treaty with Germany.” Arthur informed the others in the room. “It’s my best guess that Germany and Jett’s agreement involved his attack on me.”

Chris stiffened. He’d been told that Jett had betrayed Arthur and all but he had not know the treaty had been signed. Arthur took notice of his body language as well and frowned.

“You did not know of this? Christopher?” It was hard to believe that Jett had made a political move without Chris’s consent or knowledge no less.

“We…agreed not to sign the treaty. I haven’t seen him since then.” Chris whispered, fists clenched tightly. Jett had lied to him? And more frighteningly he hadn’t even realised it until England almost lost his life?

“It’s not your fault Chris.” Toby told him, resting a hand on his shoulder to reassure him and comfort him.

“But I should have known and now England…England is…!”

“Yes, I’m blind.” Arthur spoke softly, calm and collected despite saying something so awful. “I can no longer see out of my left eye but my right eye is just fine. There’s no reason for you to get so worked up Australia. New Zealand is right, it is not your fault.”

Chris bit his lip, definitely feeling responsible despite their reassurance.  
“Does it hurt…?” Arthur paused before answering, almost considering lying to Chris.

“It’s quite a sting, yes.” Arthur told Chris quietly. Chris only became more frustrated. Clapping his hand over his face Chris growled furiously.

“We had just agreed to deny Germany when Jett left. He told me that he was going to tell Germany the bad news and then vanished. I thought that he’d gone to Germany, I thought that he was just doing something normal, because I was so oblivious this happened! I had no idea that he….that he could….”

“In that case it’s reasonable to assume that he’ll return home.” Arthur said calmly, speaking in a soothing voice as he wished for Chris to calm down. He approached this all with a level head and acted as though it was completely normal. It was only the slight trembling in his hands that would alert anyone to how effected he was right off the bat.

“Then I have to go home as well.” Chris said simply, his hands lowering slightly.

“You can’t!” Arthur all but shouted, a look of horror coming over his face, as though he were afraid of something. “You can’t go back there, what if Jett finds you?”

“What do you mean ‘finds me’? I’m going back home to meet him.” Chris said as though it was the most obvious thing in the whole world and began to turn away to head back home.

“Chris!” Toby spoke up for the first time, reaching forward to grab Chris’s hand. “If you go back there and run into Jett…!”

“So what?” Chris snapped, yanking his hand away from Zea as he turned on them all in a rage. “So what if Jett comes to see me? He’s my bro, he’ll see reason if I talk to him for sure! He’d never do anything to hurt me.”

Chris was shocked by the icy silence that followed that statement.   
The way everyone looked at him or _didn’t_ look at him spoke more than Chris could have imagined.  
Toby glared at the ground, bitting his lip as his little hands continued to tightly clutch Chris’s arm, Alfred was much the same, fists balled by his side. Both Francis and Mattie were looking anywhere that wasn’t Chris and Arthur…Arthur just looked at him with those big sad eyes.

“Have the nightmares started yet?” Chris flinched at the question. Arthur continued to stare at him, unblinkingly as if he expected some sort of understanding to dawn on Chris.

“What are you…?” Chris began to ask but Arthur continued over him.

“I’m asking you if you’re getting nightmares. With the obvious divide between you and Jett, you must be getting them are you not?” Chris couldn’t deny him. Yes, he had the nightmares.

It was rather out of the blue. One night for the first time in his life Chris had a dream and not just a dream but a nightmare. Instead of Jett waking in the dead of the night it had been Chris, never before had he felt such a heart stopping terror from simple sleep. But oddly Jett had slept with no trouble.  
Chris thought nothing of the fact it happened the night after he returned from Germany’s house. Chris had shrugged it off. After all everyone had nightmares right? It was just his first, no need to get worked up.

But then the night after…and the night after that….nightmares every single night and almost always the same. Almost always the same setting with the same people and the exact same ending.

Every single night Chris watched Jett kill him.

Some nights it was fast, some nights it was slow and sometimes…there was more. Images of a bushland where two boys played games together, smiling faces and an offered hand…all mixed in with the bloody murder that would always signal the end of his nightmares.

“So you have got them.” Arthur spoke in a tone that held pity. “With Jett no longer in sync with you…I suppose the nightmares he took away from you came back.”

“Brother…!” Toby growled, urging Arthur to stop talking but the damage was already done.

Gripping his head tightly Chris squeezed his eyes shut trying to forget the nightmarish images he experienced. Jett always looked the same in his dreams, always blood stained, always wearing a uniform he didn’t recognise and always, _always_ smiling with tears in his eyes.

And at the end of each night terror there was that boy. That strange boy that stared at him, judging him with a face too similar to his own but the skin was too dark for it to be him and the scar along his nose still too fresh and bloody for it to be him.

The boy stared at him and Chris stared back. Every time he’d hold his hand out towards Chris, as if expecting something…but Chris could never respond to him and even if he could he had no idea what to do.

“Are you really going to be so naive even now? You can’t be this ignorant any longer.” Arthur raised his voice without meaning to. “Jett was too kind with you, he kept too many secrets so you’d not be burdened with them. You don’t have that luxury anymore!”

It was simply too much for Chris, he collapsed to his knees, clutching his head as a great pressure seemed to be forcing itself down between his eyes, and chest. He thought he was going to suffocate and all he could see was his nightmares.

“Big brother, stop it!” Suddenly Toby’s arms were around Chris. Almost as if he was protecting his brother from Arthur’s interrogation. Arthur blinked, realising he was being too harsh on Chris…but he was hurting to, they all seemed to be. Arthur let out a weak sigh and eased himself back down into his bed before looking at Chris once more.

“Forgive me lad….I’m very tired.” He apologised delicately while looking down on Chris. “If you return home…you may very well be in danger.”

“He’s my brother.” Chris whispered, gently pushing Zea’s gentle hands away. “He’s my mate. I have to wait for him to come home. He’ll see reason if it’s from me.”

Arthur knew that Chris would return home no matter what he said…so he’d make it easier and give him his blessing.   
“I can’t agree with your choice…but I will allow it. Chris, be careful. Australia is not yet lost as long as you stand.”

“Yeah. I got it.” Chris got back to his feet and walked to Arthur’s bedside, looking directly at his ruined eye. Lifting his hand he brushed away Arthur’s hair that hid the bandages. “I’ll drag that sorry gronk right back to this bed side to apologise himself.”

Arthur’s single working eye widened as he stared at Chris who smiled his bright easy going smile. Arthur felt regret, regret that his hand in this had taken that smile away at one point.  
“Do your best Chris….and come home safe.”

“You got it mate.” Chris smiled once more before he turned away and head back home. Back to wait for Jett.

 

…  
…  
…

 

“Are you sure about this mon ami?” France asked Arthur, watching as the Englishman took another sip of his tea. It had surely gone cold by now.

“Not in the slightest.” Arthur responded simply. “But he wasn’t going to stay no matter what I said and if we tried to restrain him we’d only push Australia away from us more.”

“Are you suggesting this might become a civil war?” Francis asked, surprise evident in his voice.

“Is that so preposterous?” Arthur asked, opening his right eye and lowering the tea cup to look at Francis.

“It’s just that….” Mattie spoke up from behind France, sounding small and nervous as ever. “Jett isn’t…”

“Jett isn’t a country. He’s not even a part of a country. He’s a remanent form the past just like Prussia. Hell even Prussia is the East of Germany, Jett’s not even that.” America finished for his brother, bluntness being needed and Matthew simply didn’t have it. “He can’t fight a civil war with the true owner of Australia.”

“I’m blind aren’t I?” Arthur asked coldly, immediately forcing Alfred to shut his mouth with a snap. “This is proof enough isn’t it?” Arthur demanded, his fingers hooking violently into the bandages and tearing them free despite America trying to stop him.

With the bandages no longer in the way they could all see Arthur’s blinded eye. A scar from the machete that had dealt the blow ran right thought Arthur’s left eye. His once perfect flesh marred and angrily inflamed around the gash, standing out violently against his pale complexion. They all had to see the damage caused by someone who supposedly no longer existed.

“This is proof! Right here this injury is proof that his is very much a country, he is very much real and it was very much my mistake to not see it in time.” Arthur’s hand pressed against the wound, wincing at the sting it caused.

“You idiot.” America growled. “Why’d you rip the bandages? Now I have to re-do them…” Alfred stepped forward to do it but was stopped by Arthur’s upheld hand.

“Toby.” He addressed New Zealand softly. “Please give me my new coverings.” New Zealand nodded in his usual nonchalant way and reached into his pocket, retrieving an eye patch. Arthur smiled at seeing the old thing. “It’s been a while… Thank you for minding it all this time.” Taking it Arthur worked on tying it around his head but his shaking fingers fumbled with the strings.

“I got it.” Toby murmured taking over from Arthur’s trembling hands to tie the eye patch in place.

“That’s from your pirate days isn’t it…?” Francis smiled almost fondly when he saw the old thing. “How nostalgic mon ami.”

“Frog face…” Arthur spoke casually.

“Oui?”

“Don’t call me your friend.” There was a collective smile throughout the room, perhaps Arthur really wasn’t as damaged as they’d all feared.

 

…  
…(Back with Jett)  
…

 

Jett’s mind was chaos, everything was dirty and foggy. He could hardly make sense of his surroundings but he knew he was bleeding and that he was being touched, something painful was being done to him.

Even as the fire spread through his body from the wound on his shoulder Jett was unable to completely shake the darkness of sleep. But the pain was familiar, cold hands intentionally took their time causing each new flash of fire through his body. Carefully judging how much pain to inflict in each thrust, carefully taking in the sounds he made.  
_Arthur_.

Without thinking Jett’s mind conjured up and image of England. But he was no longer injured by his machete, he was completely fine and dressed in the clothes he wore back when he’d visit Jett to check on his progress in Australia. The conjured up image of Arthur looked exactly as Jett remembered him from those times and terrified him just as much.

The image Arthur reached out, fingers danced across Jett’s frozen body towards the place he’d been shot. There was a brief paused as Arthur’s fingers darted over the wound almost gently but it was a fleeting act of gentleness and in the next second his nails buried themselves deep within Jett’s flesh.

Blood began to pour anew from the wound that had once dried over and stopped bleeding profusely was torn open by Arthur’s nails.

 _No…this isn’t right._  
Jett’s mind urged him to see past the image created by fear.  
_Arthur wouldn’t do this again._

“It’s just a small lesson, Jett. You can bear that much right?”  Arthur whispered him as more blood was set free, causing Jett to cry out. He felt his head just emerge from the murky waters of unconsciousness but Arthur did not disappear. If anything it became more real, the pain he felt was real, the person that sat by him inflicting it was real also but he could only see Arthur.

And so he did all he’d been taught to do. He begged Arthur to stop. He wanted to scream, scream he learnt his lesson that he didn’t need any more but no matter how hard he tried his head kept getting pushed back under the dark waters into the dark sleeping world. He struggled between the waking world and the nightmare land.

A cry must have gotten out because suddenly the pain lessened and Arthur’s face twisted in surprise, as though he couldn’t understand why he had stopped his own torture. Arthur looked angry and Jett felt afraid until he heard a quiet voice muttering to him.

 “I’m sorry Jett.” It was not Arthur that he could hear, instead it was a soothing voice that whispered to him, taking his mind away from the Arthur delusion that haunted him. A gentle hand pushed his hair back, someone was comforting him in the waking world. ”Just a little more of this and you’ll feel better. Arthur was cruel to you wasn’t he? Causing you so much pain.”

Jett was holding onto something, it felt like someone’s body and it was warm so Jett tightened his grip, trying to remain in the world of the waking with whoever it was that spoke to him, giving him comfort.  
“They were both cruel weren’t they? Shooting you right in this vital place.”

Suddenly the pain was back, white hot fire ran through Jett’s body and he saw the image Arthur grinning down at him, knife in hand pushed into his shoulder but he could not cry out, his voice was locked. All the while his comforter whispered to him.  
“Arthur and Alfred are cruel aren’t they? Doing this to you.”

This time Jett did scream, Arthur smiled when he screamed and the waking world and dreaming world began to melt together, Jett saw Arthur’s fingers knuckle deep in his wound, replacing the conjured up blade and he only screamed all the louder. Was he to be punished so harshly for what he’d done to Arthur? No…the comforting voice told him that Arthur and Alfred were the cruel ones.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay.” A gentle caress on the cheek urged Jett’s eyes open slightly. The image of Arthur blurred in and out of focus, occasionally being replaced with another familiar form. Between the moments Arthur was visible and not Jett could see Germany over him, hovering close with a hand gently touching his cheek, his comforter was Ludwig.

A gentle pressure on his forehead brought Jett further out of the dreaming world as he felt Germany’s hand pushing hair away from his head. Ludwig was terribly gentle with Jett. Arthur was never this tender with Jett and the agony from his wounded shoulder served to remind him that Arthur would never be that gentle. A soft kiss was pressed to his head and Jett felt some of his pain fading, it still ached and stung but his focus was on Ludwig, no longer the false Arthur.

 “I’ll make sure they don’t cause this pain anymore.” Jett wanted to believe Ludwig, he wanted to reach out and cling to him tightly. Arthur was no longer in sight, the hellish image and pain fading away as Jett’s arms stretched out to try and find the security that lay with Germany.

“Please…” Jett’s weak voice was crying out for safety. He wanted to be close to Germany in this delusional state. He wanted Ludwig to send the fear and pain away.. “Lud…wig…”

“Ja. I understand.” Ludwig’s kind voice whispered to him comfortingly and he took Jett’s hand in his own. Whatever came after that Jett couldn’t tell. He smiled before his eyes slipped shut again and he was left in the darkness but this time there was no pain and no nightmares. It was a beautiful rest.

“ _I’ll keep you right here with me. You can be mein_.”

Jett’s eyes shot wide open as he awoke with a start. Had he been dreaming?  
When he tried to sit up right in the bed however his body rewarded him with a sharp stab of pain. It was as though his own body was saying ‘ _Look what you did! Now you gotta pay for it sucker_!’ His body was an asshole.

Jett’s fingers pulled away the bed sheets, revealing his bandaged torso. He’d been cleaned up and patched up, perhaps it had something to do with his nightmare? He could have been feeling that pain from his treatment. Jett thought about how Arthur and Ludwig had mixed together in his feverish dream.  
No, surely not.   
Germany was his protector. The nightmare had just showed Arthur hurting him, that was all.

Pushing away those thoughts Jett tried once again to sit up, finding this time his body wasn’t as big a jackass and allowed him to slowly sit up right. It was sunny outside and now that he was sitting Jett could see the room clearly. It was the same room he’d woken up in with a hang over some time before this. It was still clean and still heavenly but Jett noticed some changes.

There were more locks on the door for one, that would have been unsettling but Jett shrugged it off as a simple need for security after his attack on Arthur. Jett quickly turned that thought path off, Arthur was the last thing he wanted to think of.

Something else that caught Jett’s notice was the pile of things in the corner. _His_ things. When had they gotten there? At a glance Jett recognised that most of his belongings were clothing and much to his joy a little spider scuttled out from under the bags, some of his home had come with his clothes it seemed.

“Hey there little guy.” Jett smiled, slipping out of bed though he was damn careful not to upset his touchy body a second time. Wandering over to the bags Jett knelt down by the little spider and was surprised when it jumped on him.

“Oh, a little jumping spider are ya? I suppose you’re small enough not to worry Germany. If you were a huntsman he might have kicked you out.” Still beaming Jett let the little critter scuttle his way up his arm. Jett found the spider to be adorable, jumping spiders were one of the cutest spiders that frequently occupied their house.  
Still he didn’t let the little guy crawl into his bandages, getting a spider in his wound wouldn’t be a pleasant experience for man or spider. So gently, careful not to squish the little guy, Jett took him into his palms and set the spider down on the table.

“Keep out of trouble. Make a little home somewhere in here and you’ll be fine.” Jett took another look around the clean and obviously bug-less room. “Though you might need to eat out, there’s not much on the menu in this place.” The spider looked up at him with those big eyes, almost like he was actually listening to Jett and the moment he stopped talking the spider bounced off somewhere unseen. Looks like he had a new roommate.

Jett was smiling to himself at the thought when his eye caught something shiny, his flip phone. Crouching down by the pile Jett picked up the phone and flicked it open, eyes widening when he saw how many messages he had. Almost all of them from Chris and a fair few from Zea as well.

Missed calls, piles of texts, all starting from yesterday. Seemed he was being missed by his brothers. Jett sighed with a faint smile, they must have been worried. He would get back home to them and put their mind to rest. Just as he was finding that he had no credit to text his brother with the overly secure door opened. Standing in the doorway with a surprised look on his face was Prussia. Jett looked to him from where he stood by the pile of clothes and bags.

“Morning.” He greeted him casually, moving to wave but winced and grabbed at his shoulder. No waving then.

“Ah….morning.” Prussia looked uncertain for a second but before long his usual grin came into place and his hands rested on his hips in a stance of arrogance. “The little baby you was out like a light for ages. What a little scratch put the big scary Jett on his ass? Keseses!”

“Oi! It’s a bullet wound, let’s see you walk away from this, oh great Gilbert!” Jett shot back sarcastically, his pride feeling the sting more than his shoulder.

“That’s the great and awesome Gilbert to you loser!” Prussia crowed proudly.

“When you say ‘and’ it sounds like ‘und’.” Jett said in a deadpan voice, having nothing better to retort with.

The two of them were silent after that, staring at one another but finally Prussia grinned and walked forward to slap Jett on the back. Cheeky bastard.  
Jett winced but laughed with Gilbert, mates were mean to each other and Gilbert was shaping up to be a great mate.

“Where’s Germany?” He asked once the burning on his backside dulled and their snickering stopped. Prussia turned away from Jett, waving his hand back and forth nonchalantly as he answered.

“Downstairs with the little Italian.” Prussia sounded alright but he’d turned away so Jett couldn’t see how he gnawed on his lip. “Sounds like he came to see you.”

“Italy?” Jett was surprised. Sure Italy mentioned being friends but it’d all been so fast that Jett had missed it.

“Ja and the Japanese one to.” Prussia added with a shrug. “Having a little meeting they are. I suppose it’s like the lamest welcoming party ever, or something.”

Jett frowned, both frustrated that Gilbert didn’t face him when talking and nervous about seeing Italy and Japan. While he was worrying about this Prussia was worrying about him.

“Hey…” Jett looked back at Gilbert who still refused to face him. “Shouldn’t you…maybe be going home now?” Jett wasn’t sure what to make of Gilbert’s careful tone. “Isn’t it time you get back to your normal life…?”

Before Jett had the chance to reply there was another figure at the door. In fact there were another three.

“Aus-tra-li-a~” Was all the warning that Jett got before he was all but attacked by Italy. The over active country flying through the door to tackle hug the unsuspecting Jett. Wincing Jett was pushed back by the impact of Italy’s hug and the two ended up on the ground, Jett’s injured body screaming in protest.

“Italy!” At the doorway Jett could hear Germany shouting. “What was I just telling you on the way up here? What did I just tell you?” He demanded furiously and Italy began to ‘Ve’ in terror, clinging to Jett.

“Ah, it’s alright mate. We’re fine.” Jett muttered, rubbing his shoulder with a cringing smile. “You to Italy, you ‘right?” Jett asked looking down at Italy.

“Ve. Ci, ci, mister Australia-“ Italy looked up at him and froze. Jett actually felt him tense in his arms and begin shaking in fear. Had he done something wrong? Faster than Jett thought possible Italy leapt up and hid himself behind Germany, still shaking in fear.

“Italia-kun…” that was Japan’s voice. Appearing from behind both Germany and Italy the frowning male looked towards Jett before scolding Italy in his quiet voice. “You’re being rude…”

Jett was glad to see both Italy and Japan were the same as he remembered. Italy no longer wore that strange hat or uniform and his eyes were rightfully closed again. Japan wore all white, spic and span with his unreadable face. It was comforting to see that they were perfectly normal. Jett felt that somewhere along the way they’d lost some normality.

“Ve, ve…” Italy whined weakly. “Bu-But…scary…” Jett realised why Italy was hiding and touched his face, the scar was visible. Not to mention the rest of him was also. He knew his body was a disaster and instantly felt guilty for frightening Italy.

“I’m sorry mate.” He apologised with a sigh and Italy perked his head up in surprise. “I’ll get a shirt on and find something to cover my face with. Just close your eyes until it’s done.” Jett felt ill, knowing his appearance alone sacred Italy. However as he began to turn away those familiar small arms wrapped around his torso, squeezing him tightly.

“Ve, don’t cry mister Australia.” Italy cried out in a pitiful voice.

“Are you mad? There’s no way I’d cry.” Jett tried to pull away but as he did Italy moved in front of him, stopping him with outstretched hands and Jett saw that he was shaking. Was…Italy the one crying?

“H-Hey mate…” Jett struggled with what he was meant to do. Italy was such a weak little thing and Jett was so rough, what was he meant to do with a crying country? Awkwardly Jett knelt down and took Italy’s hand into his own, finding that he treated Italy almost like a child.  
He didn’t notice how Germany’s eyes went wide at the sight, as though he’d seen it somewhere before.

“Sorry, sorry…” Italy sobbed softly while his free hand rubbed at his eyes meekly. “I hurt mister Australia’s feelings…I’m such an awful little Italy.”

“Hey now, that’s not true. Don’t go crying like that Italy.” He spoke gently to Italy, reaching out to pat his head and smile. “You’re much cuter when you smile don’t you know? We’re going to be good mates so it’s important that you smile happily, got it?”

“Mister Australia…” Italy looked at Jett past his hands, sniffling with tears still in his eyes. “Feliciano….please call me…Feli.” Jett blinked in surprise but quickly returned to smiling, hoping to ease the Italian’s fear.

“Feli. Please don’t cry.” Italy stared at him but slowly his goofy smile came back and with tears still running down his cheeks he lunged into Jett’s arms, hugging the kneeling nation tightly. This time it came naturally when he embraced Italy. This little cry baby was going to be his ally?   
What a nuisance, he’d have to keep a close eye on him to make sure he didn’t get hurt. Jett would just have to protect little Italy.

It was nice to be needed.

“Oh and Feli, call me Jett. No more mister Australia nonsense okay? Friends don’t call each other mister.” Italy shifted back, rubbing away tears with a smile.

“Ci. It’s a deal, we’re friends now ci?.” Italy held out his pinky and Jett hesitated, was he really going to pinky promise like an ankle biter? Well…he couldn’t say no to Feli when he looked so naively hopeful.

“Yeah. Friends.” Jett smiled back to Italy and behind the two of them Japan turned to Germany who smiled faintly.

“See? They’ll be perfectly alright.” Germany reassured Japan.

“Hai, seems so.” Kiku agreed, looking back to Italy as he continued to bug Jett. Jett was more lenient with Italy than Japan had expected. Jett had never struck him as a kind hearted nation but he treated Italy tenderly and even allowed him to act childish without growling at him.

“Is it really alright to let Australia spoil him?” Kiku asked. Germany always protected Italy but he didn’t outright spoil him, he’d still scold and shout but it seemed Jett couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Ja. Shouting at Italy is my job.” Germany chuckled before noticing Italy reaching for a vase. “Italy!” And thus that shouting job came into play. Startled Italy jumped and knocked the vase from its perch despite Germany’s efforts.

“I got it!” Jett cried, diving for the vase but forgot all about his shoulder. The hand that was meant to grab the vase instead flew to his injured shoulder and instead of catching the vase he just fell to the ground with it. The vase shattered and Italy started to cry.

“Shit…sorry.” Jett grumbled sitting up and looking at the remains of the vase, frustrated with himself. “That was dumb.”

“Nein. It’s alright but you’re being reckless. Let me see your bandages.” Germany walked to Jett, seeing that he had at least not torn his stiches. “Gutt, you’ve not opened the wound.”

“Australia-san.” Japan spoke up and both Jett and Ludwig looked to him. “How were you injured?” Jett frowned, did they not know?

“Ah that’s….” Jett began but Ludwig shook his head, silencing him.

“A simple accident.” He answered instead. “It’ll heal soon.” Jett wasn’t sure why Ludwig lied but for the time being he didn’t question it. If Japan was aware that Ludwig was lying he didn’t speak up, sensing the mood and all. Italy on the other hand didn’t notice a thing.

“Jett, Jett!” Italy’s arms began flying around excitedly as he spoke. “Can we play a game? Let’s play a game, let’s play soccer, soccer!”

“Dummkopf!” Germany barked. “Did you not just see he is injured? How can you be such a scatter brain…?” Italy began to whine again and Jett laughed.

“Well…maybe not soccer but we could still play a game.” Jett suggested. “How about we just play hide and seek?”

“That’s a child’s game.” Germany started to object but once again Italy’s arms were sent flying in excitement.

“Hide and seek? Hide and seek! Ci, Ci! Let’s play!” Italy bounced out of the room before anyone else could object and even Germany seemed to notice the hopelessness of trying to argue. Grunting unhappily he glanced to Jett.

“Why a children’s game?”

“I can hide and not move. Besides the essence of hide and seek is silence so maybe Feli will quiet down a little.” Jett smiled before adding with a mischievous smile. “Or will be easy to find. You wouldn’t want to lose would you Germany?”

Ludwig tensed before opening his mouth to protest but right at that moment the two noticed that Japan was gone. He’d quietly vanished without their notice, looks like Japan might be the hard one to find.

“Why am I the seeker?” Germany asked in a disgruntle tone.

“Because you were the unlucky one this time. Besides with your big body your hiding places are limited.” Jett enjoyed the way Germany’s eye brow twitched in irritation at his comment. “Are you afraid you’ll lose Germany?” Jett teased him and suddenly Ludwig’s eyes were determined.

“I will not lose.” He said firmly.

“I won’t either.” Jett replied with a confident grin.

“We’ll see. You have one minute.” Ludwig allowed, standing with his back to the door so that Jett could escape to find a hiding place. So in the end the big mean and oh so serious Germany ended up playing a children’s game.

“Hey Gil!” Jett called, noticing the abnormally quiet Prussia standing just outside of the door as he exited to find a hiding spot. “You gunna play or what man?”

“Hmpf. If the awesome me plays you’ll all be bigger losers than you are already! Keseses!” Perhaps he was better when he was silent. Jett smirked back at him.

“Fine. We’ll see who is the loser, let’s see who gets caught first.” Prussia grinned at him and the two of them bumped fists before taking off, they only had a minute to hide after all. Jett was at a disadvantage though, he did not know this house like Germany or Prussia.

“Hey stop following me!” Prussia growled and he and Jett began to shove on another to try and get ahead. “The awesome me knows the best spot, you can’t have it!” Without really meaning to the two of them ended up fighting over a hiding place. Prussia and Jett both wanted to use the top shelf of one of the spare rooms.

After a short scuffle over the little crawl space Prussia got the upper hand and pushed Jett out, smirking in victory.  
“Hah! The awesome me wins, later loser!” Poking his tongue out while pulling his bottom eye lid down and slammed the door shut right in front of Jett’s face.

Steaming and seriously considering yanking the German out and beating him Jett heard the sound of heavy footsteps down the hall. Had it really been a whole minute already?

“I’m coming, ready or not.” He heard Germany call through the house, whatever embarrassment he felt about playing a children’s game gone and he sounded surprisingly in to it. Jett looked around the room wildly before pressing himself to the wall by the door, afraid he might spot him if he stood in the door way. Damn that Prussia, because of him he’d run out of time to hide!

In the cupboard Jett swore he heard Prussia snickering. Fuck. Him.   
Grinding his teeth together Jett listened at those heavy foot falls began to grow louder and closer with the occasional pause and opening of a door. Jett was already giving up hope when he heard the move beautiful sound in the world. Italy screaming.

He wailed from the other end of the house, no doubt being spotted by Germany.

“Italy!” Germany roared. “You’re meant to hide!” Jett snickered, obviously Italy hadn’t quiet been able to find a hiding place and got spotted by Germany. “Hey! Get back here.” Germany was running after Italy now, in the opposite direction of Jett. “Italy!”

As Italy lured Germany away Jett let out a sigh of relief and crept out of the room, hoping to find somewhere better than Prussia’s stupid cupboard!  
He was growing desperate once the sounds of Germany chasing Italy died down, signalling that Italy had been caught but he couldn’t hear Germany’s boots as he walked yet either so he wasn’t terribly close.  
Still Jett felt time quickly vanishing and he still had nothing of use. The best he got was under a bed or something, surely they had better than that!

Jett paused when he noticed something strange standing ahead of him. The same shadows creature he’d seen the day before at England’s house. It took Jett a good long time to recognise what it was but he realised it was one of those things his native friend told him about. A mini? No that wasn’t right…a Mimi.

Tall and terribly thin with an almost ghost like body the creature peered around the corner at Jett before vanishing away.  
“Hey wait a second…!” Jett called softly but realised his mistake when he heard Germany moving his way, definitely having heard him. Without a second thought Jett took off after the creature.

Mimis were something like fairy people, at least that was all he had to compare them to. He’d seen plenty of strange creatures in his time in Australia. He and England shared that magical trait and it seemed his native friend had too, although the creatures in Australia were somewhat more terrifying than the English creatures.

Tales of sand creatures that snatched up women and monsters that ate up children, Jett had never particularly liked magical elements and had profusely denied seeing them when England asked but he’d always seen them. Just like he’d seen England’s fairy friends stop him from cleaving him in two.

As he rounded the corner Jett saw it again, this time standing in the middle of the hall like a statue. It pointed up at the ceiling, once, twice, three times at the roof. Looking between Jett and what appeared to be solid wall…it vanished.   
Mimi were known to be safe and kind beings that belonged in a different world to the humans but at the same time Jett knew they had a taste for mischief and games in particular.   
So it wanted to give Jett a little hand did it? Fine, he’d take it. Grinning Jett dashed over to the place the creature had been, looking up and sure enough there it was.

“An attic? Perfect.” The only problem was that the attic appeared to be forgotten, which would have been fine but he didn’t see any way of opening it immediately and those steps were getting louder.   
At first his was discouraged, what if he was just being tricked and the game the Mimi was playing was at his expense?

Looking around desperately Jett noticed a string just stuck from the ceiling. It must have been stuck up in the door, if he could just reach that he’d be able to pull the attic ladder down. Even if he jumped for it however he’d never reach. Again he was frustrated, the Mimi could have snatched the rope down for him right?

To make matters worse it looked like there was nothing he could climb on to get up to it. Perhaps he needed to find a different hiding place? Just as he was about to turn back and head the other way though he heard Germany approaching from the other side and this was a dead end path!

Panicked Jett turned back to the ceiling, eyes looking around for something to help him. Jett’s eyes caught something a little troubling however.  
Sitting on the rope he needed was one of those little feral fairies.

Feral fairies were a troublesome breed of creature and he didn’t even need to learn that from his native friend as these creatures came from England. The fairies that travelled to Australia with their English humans were not accustomed to the rough landscape or the style of magic that Australia had and rather quickly they became pests.  
Adapting their talents and skills to live here comfortably also brought with it a mischievous attitude that caught Jett plenty of problems in the past and so seeing one now wasn’t exactly comforting.  
The thing tinkered at him, no doubt laughing when it saw his predicament.

“Come on, help me out little mate.” Jett hissed at the fairy. The fairy seemed to consider it but only poked its tongue out at him. Jett liked the Mimi much more than this pest.

But oddly the Mimi and Fairies seemed comfortable with one another, so perhaps something good could be found from them?  
“Pull that rope down and I’ll pay you back for sure. What do you say?” Jett offered, hoping that the fairy would agree when there was something on the table for it.

Finally the rope swung down and Jett smiled. The little fairy flew around his head a few times, tugging on his hair and clothes while it giggled.  
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’ll be sure to remember our deal.” Jett spoke quickly as he yanked the ladder down, with his way up secured he wasted no time climbing up into the forgotten attic and pulling the ladder up after him, just in time for Germany’s footsteps to pass under him.  
Jett let out a huge breath of relief; he’d not be losing to Prussia today!

Now that he was safe however Jett had the time to look around his hiding place and oh gosh oh damn there was dust! Beautiful glorious dust!   
Jett grinned as he crawled around in the old attic, it looked as though no one had been in it for a century! There were boxes littered around and although it was still neat and organised the sheer fact it was no longer spotless filed Jett with glee, he didn’t feel like the grubbiest thing in here!

‘ _!!_ ’ A little tinkle and tug on his ear reminded Jett he wasn’t alone. Sitting back against the wall he looked at the shiny little fairy. Its light wasn’t as sparkly as England’s friends or as bright. In fact it really did look feral, its bushland made clothes torn and rugged with little pick knives and bones hanging around its body. Jett had to look really hard to see it was a little girl like creature with long ears and strangely glowing skin.

“I owe ya one okay?” Jett chuckled, patting the thing on the head with his finger gently. It yelped and cursed at him in its little tinkling voice only making him laugh more. “You know I haven’t seen any of you guys in years. Where’d you even come from…?” Jett frowned when he thought about the Mimi and feral fairy.

What would cause them to appear now of all times?  
As Jett tried to find the reason the little fairy kept tugging on his hair, what did it want?

“Hey, lay off!” Jett snapped before looking at the little fairy girl. She looked just about ready to cry, surprised Jett reached out to cup her in his hands.

“Hey, I didn’t think you guys could cry. Why are you getting all upset?” The fairy sat in his palm and began to rub her face, no doubt denying her tears though Jett couldn’t translate what she said. Funny, he swore that once upon a time they understood each other.

She looked up at Jett with an angry pout and began to point at his face wildly. Were they going to play charades now? Standing in his hands she began to draw on his palm, her glowing fingers leaving a string of dust behind them, printing a slowly fading image on his skin.

What she drew made Jett snort, she drew what looked like a deformed Chris. When he laughed she bit his thumb causing him to yelp and grumble, damn fairies had sharp teeth in Australia.

“Chris, eh…? Is he missing me?” Jett wondered. Chris had never been able to see the fairies but they all gathered around his light. It was sad really, like the old world remembered him but he was oblivious, only Jett could see them. The little fairy nodded.

“Want me home do you?” Again she nodded.

“Is that why I can see you again?” This time she shook her head and Jett smiled sourly.

“Is it because I’m a country again…?” Now she nodded and Jett sighed. “You must be angry with me, eh?” When she shrugged Jett only laughed.

“No, I guess not. A little feral thing like you wouldn’t care would you?” She smirked at him and bit his hand again. “Cheeky little shit. But…I’m glad to see you guys again. Kinda missed you lot, though I could do without the Dooligah.” Both country and fairy shuddered before snickering.

“What the hell!” From downstairs there was a scream, sounded like Prussia. “Japan when did you get in here?!”

“I-I tried to tell you.” Japan said back. “I was…in here the whole time.” Looks like Prussia did end up sharing his hiding place.

“Aha!” Germany’s victorious cry sounded next, followed by the slamming open of a door and Prussia yelp. Jett won that round. Grinning smugly Jett glanced to the fairy who also snickered gleefully.

“Looks like we’re the winners, eh?” Beaming Jett held out his finger and the fairy hit it with her little fist. Cute, making friends with invisible creatures. People would think him as mad as England.

After the sound of Prussia being pried out of the cupboard ended there was silence and Jett wondered if they’d forgotten about him. Germany’s footsteps passed under his hiding place once more and Jett swore he could hear Ludwig swearing softly in German.  
Was he getting frustrated?

“Jett.” When Germany called him Jett had to hold his hands over his mouth to stop from laughing, they really couldn’t find him? “Everyone else is found, come out now.” It was bait and Jett knew it, if he shouted back or came out Germany would be on him and be victorious. No, no, he’d wait right there until Germany gave up in frustration.

More footsteps.

“Jett?” Another call, further away this time.

Louder footsteps.  
Cursing.

“Come on out, game is over!” An angry call.

Banging doors open and close.  
Loud cursing.

“Jett. I’m getting annoyed. Are you really going to be so childish?” Angry growls and snickering from both fairy and Jett.

“He’s going to lose his mind.” Jett whispered to the little fairy as they snickered but suddenly the game changed up a little bit.

“Jett. When I find you you’re going to be in huge trouble.” Germany sounded like he was checking each and every room twice now and Jett wouldn’t be surprised if the house was turned upside down when he did finally decide to come out.

“Come out now and I’ll forgive you for being childish.” Germany offered but Jett didn’t budge and downstairs he heard something smash. Flinching Jett glanced to his fairy friend who looked back at him in surprise. Was it silly that Jett felt a little bit…scared?

Was Germany really angry?  
Was he really going to get into trouble?  
Jett began to feel uncomfortable and found himself twitching and fidgeting every time a door was slammed shut downstairs.

“Maybe we should go down…?” The fairy shook her head wildly and began to draw on his hand, she drew a big EXIT sign. “What run away? A bit dramatic don’t you think?” Jett asked but the fairy was tugging on his clothes violently. “Cut that out.” Jett shouted when she tugged on his hair, realising a moment too late his mistake.

Silence…  
_Silence_ …….

“Found you.” Suddenly the dark and dusty attic was flooded with light and the ladder fell down with a loud bang. Jett found himself pressing up flat against the wall behind the boxes he’d skited behind to hide. Slowly the sound of Germany climbing the ladder could be heard and Jett felt his heart pounding. When did getting to play hide and seek become such a terrifying game?  
Sure back at home he played human sacrifice sometimes but that was designed to be a scary game of catching and running, this was just hide and seek!

Jett saw Ludwig’s large shadow fall over the room as he stood, no doubt looking around for him. Maybe if Jett was lucky he could be overlooked and Germany would leave. That was a possibility right? Well it was until a large hand wrapped around his ankle and dragged him from his hiding place.

With a cry of alarm Jett found himself pulled from his hiding place and caught under Germany, pinned very securely to the ground. Jett’s heart was beating away rapidly in his chest and he could feel adrenaline pumping through him. Looks like Germany even took childish games seriously when challenged.

Leaning down close to the captured Jett Germany cracked a cold smile.  
“I told you before didn’t I? I win.”

Jett felt completely frozen under Germany, it was too familiar and far too frightening. Hell even as he stared up at Ludwig’s blue illuminated hues he could have sworn he saw green eyes staring back at him. A silence began to grow between the two of them and Germany’s expression gradually shifted into an undefinable expression. They were hardly an inch away from one another and if Ludwig noticed it he certain didn’t remedy it.

“Jett.” Ludwig murmured his name in a quiet breath and strangely Jett found himself trying to turn away from Ludwig, only to have his wrists caught and pinned down above his head. “No escaping. I won so you have to face your punishment for making me angry. Didn’t I give you a fair chance to come out?”

“Germa-“ Jett began to protest but a gloved hand quickly covered his mouth, silencing his voice.

“No speaking. You lost. This is what happens when you lose.” Germany was speaking to him in that quiet tone, holding him with those unshifting hands and watching him with those cold eyes. Jett could hardly breathe anymore, what was it that Germany wanted from him…?

Germany lent down till his face was out of Jett’s line of vision, resting just above his shoulder and neck, Jett tried to question him but it came out as a muffled, grumble of unintelligible sounds. Ludwig’s grip on his wrists tightening warningly.

“Not a word.” He reminded him icily and Jett obeyed, unsure of what kind of situation this was. As the silence lingered on Jett became distinctly aware of where Ludwig’s knee resided between his legs, jammed up against his vital region almost painfully. He wanted to complain and have him move it but he didn’t dare utter another sound.  
Satisfied that he kept his mouth shut Germany turned his attention to the form of ‘punishment’ he wanted to employ.

Jett flinched violently, his back lifting off the ground a little bit as he felt something warm and moist dart against his neck. It didn’t take a genius to realise that it was Ludwig’s tongue. He squirmed about slightly, mind in a state of disarray as he desperately tried to figure out why Ludwig would lick his neck.  
That was until Germany’s probing tongue sound the sweet spot it was looking for, just at the base of his neck. Unwillingly Jett let out a whine when that spot was found, not even realising he had such a place to begin with. Smirking into Jett’s flesh Ludwig stopped licking and for a second Jett thought he was finished.

He was very wrong and a second later Jett let out a shrill cry of pain.  
Ludwig had sunk his teeth into that sensitive spot.   
Jett’s arms strained against Ludwig’s hold but it only tightened. His legs kicked only to have the knee pressed down harder into his vital regions.  
Finally Jett went so far as to bite Ludwig’s hand, his teeth easily making it past the glove and to his flesh. He didn’t hold anything back, he bit until he tasted blood and Ludwig jerked back with a growl of surprise.

Jett scrambled up, wiping Ludwig’s blood from his lip as the male checked his hand, making sure he didn’t bite off a chunk. At the same time Jett noticed some of his own blood on Ludwig’s chin. His hand slapped against his neck, finding a small trickle of blood there.

“W-What the bloody hell was that!” Jett shouted once he found his voice. Germany looked at him, almost seeming surprised as though he hadn’t realised Jett was there at all.

“….ah.” Ludwig’s eyes went wide and immediately he backed up, hands held up defensively, giving Jett a good look at how badly his hand was bleeding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I’d taken it too far. Bitte, forgive me Jett. That was most definitely too far.” Germany began to get angry at himself and Jett’s anger melted away seeing how sorry Ludwig seemed.

“How’s your hand…?” He asked, sitting in a more relaxed way as he looked up at the standing Germany. “Does it hurt?”

“Nein. It’s fine.” Ludwig said gruffly even as he cupped his injured hand. Jett noticed that Ludwig’s face was flushed red, if it was from embarrassment or shame he couldn’t be sure. Deciding that he wasn’t even a little bit angry Jett climbed to his feet with a grunt.

“Give it here.” He ordered, holding his hand out to Ludwig. The German hesitated and Jett pushed his hand forward more insistently. “Come on then!”

Slowly Germany relinquished his grip on the bitten hand and allowed Jett to hold it. Turning over his gloved hand Jett studied the mark through the glove before taking it off and checking the damage. Jett certainly had a set of chompers on him, Germany might be feeling that for a while.

“Well?” Ludwig asked softly while his eyes lingered on Jett, watching how he held the injured hand gently.

“You’re a big boy, you’ll be fine. Might sting for a bit though, sorry. Alright let’s go.” Jett ordered, taking Germany’s good hand and began leading him from the attic.

“Where are we going?” Germany asked, surprise easy to spot in his tone.

“To bandage your hand of course. You bandaged me up so it’s only fair.” Jett said sharply without looking back at Ludwig. “If you complain even once I’ll bite you again.” Ludwig was wise and kept his trap shut firmly as he was taken through his own house…a few times. He looked at Jett in confusion only to realise that Jett had gotten lost and was trying to hide it. Germany smiled and began to subtly lead them towards Jett’s room, letting the prideful nation have his moment in charge.

Once they were back in Jett’s room the nation had no trouble locating the first aid kit. Germany had left in on the bench from when he cleaned up Jett’s wound. Like a good patient Ludwig sat on the edge of the bed and waited in silence as Jett sorted through the first aid, quietly cursing to himself as he did.

Ludwig watched Jett move about rapidly and he couldn’t help but think about how strange it was that Jett had completely moved past their little scene in the attic. Was Jett really so trusting of him? Or perhaps he was desensitised to small acts of dominance after all his time with Arthur? Ludwig wasn’t sure…but he wasn’t complaining either.

Ludwig knew he’d been too hasty, too riled up but he couldn’t help it. He’d been hunting Jett essentially and once he got that image in his head all he wanted to do once he caught him was torture him a little. He’d been so agitated when looking for the crafty little nation and how he found the attic that even the owner of the house had forgotten was beyond Ludwig’s understanding. All through the game Germany had been looking forward to catching Jett, thinking that he’d take a little bit of pleasure in hunting him down, though he had not intended to get that caught up in the game.

If he’d not been bitten by Jett…he may have gone further and that would have been far too soon.

“Ha! Got you.” Jett declared, pulling Germany’s mind away from the game. Looking up he saw Jett coming towards him with bandages and a grin. He’d be lucky to escape this without becoming a mummy. Jett was surprisingly gentle with his hand as he took it into his own rough hands.

Jett’s hands were not soft skinned or flawless. Ludwig counted many nicks and cuts and could see where his skin had become rough and calloused, they were working hands. Jett had once been a prisoner at hard labour after all and his country was known for being rough and unforgiving at times, it was to be expected that his hands were not smooth.

“Jett.” Ludwig spoke quietly as he watched the younger nation bandage his hands tenderly, as if afraid he may cause further injury if he moved too quickly.

“What is it?” He asked without looking up at Germany, good. He’d not see the bittersweet expression he wore.

“You’ve told me a lot about yourself already, about you and Arthur but I want to ask a little bit more, if you’ll allow me.”

“Well, there’s not too much more to tell. We’re a young country and we’re yet to really start any fights…I don’t think you’d find it interesting.” Jett responded with a careless shrug.

“It’s you.” Ludwig replied bluntly. “You interest me. We are now allies and friends so it’s only natural to ask. Will you tell me?” Jett paused in his bandaging and looked up at Germany.

“Yeah mate. Anything.” He agreed before going back to his work, pausing to add some painful disinfectant to Germany’s hand. Ludwig smiled, he was oddly agreeable when approached gently.

“Jett, who were you talking to in the roof?” Jett paused and laughed sheepishly, looking embarrassed.

“That is…well… I was talking to a fairy.” Germany couldn’t believe his ears. Looks like Jett picked up another trait from England he didn’t like. “Sounds mad don’t it?”

“Ja, a bit.” Germany chuckled before adding gently. “But I’ll take your word for it. How’d you even find the attic?”

“Fairy friend.” Jett answered with another awkward laugh.

“I see. Do you talk to them often?”

“Not really. In fact I haven’t seen them in a long time but they used to keep me company when I was alone in Australia. It’s not like I had anyone else to talk to after all.” Jett explained with a shrug. “I guess that doesn’t really make me sound much saner though does it?”

Germany hesitated after that, taking a small gulp as he did. Jett seemed to notice this as well and turned away from his work on Germany’s hands to peer up at the other nation.

“Something the matter?” He asked and saw how Germany’s gaze dipped away to the floor, as though he feared asking something.

“Jett….do you really….not remember me at all?” Jett was surprised at those words, finding that they didn’t fit in logically with anything he knew about Germany.

“Mate? I…don’t really get what you’re saying.” Germany grit his teeth together and Jett felt a pang of guilt in his chest.

“So you don’t remember. Nein, I already knew you’d forgotten, I was just a child at the time and I had forgotten for a time also but…even so I had hoped that you would remember all the same…” Ludwig muttered softly. “I can’t help it, when you’re kneeling in front of me like back then, holding my hand like you did back then…”

“As a….child?” Jett repeated, looking down at the hand he held in his own and it just…clicked.

Jett never truly forgot anything.  
It simply got misplaced in his mind and just then Germany had dug up an old memory.

 

…  
…(Roughly 1838  and 1841)  
…

 

“Jack!” Groaning softly Jett looked up from where he lay at his boss. “Up, quickly up.” He urged Jett to get his ass up and into gear, finding his laziness to be appalling.

“We have a small situation, you’d best come and look.”

With a small groan Jett forced himself up, ignoring the pain from the previous day’s work as he stood. His boss rarely asked him to do things as a nation, rarely addressed him if his elder brother was no involved somehow so Jett was surprised when he was taken south…and met someone entirely new.

And he was annoying.

Standing on the shore line Jett could only blink in disbelief as he saw the ships coming in. They were not from England and this was the largest group of non-English migrants to Australia he’d ever seen.

“Who are those people?” Jett asked looking from the ships to his boss. “We’ve never had this many foreign migrants before…”

“They’re from Prussia.” His boss explained simply. “We hadn’t expected them to a come here either but it seems they really are just migrating for living purposes.”

“Prussia huh?” Jett murmured looking back towards the new settlers that were unloading themselves from the ships. Among them Jett’s eye caught a figure that was very obviously not a human. Dressed as a noble and even though Jett had seen his brother’s…’pirate’ attire in previous years he still found himself staring at the hat on the silver haired male’s head. A pair of red eyes glanced towards Jett and a smirk came onto the other nations face. He looked annoying and Jett had a feeling he might punch him if they spoke. So he decided to ignore him.

“Never heard of him.” Jett said rudely brushing off the other nation without any care or respect.

“You…!” His boss growled angrily at his lack of care. “The Teutonic Knights are very important! Don’t dismiss them so nonchalantly brat.”

“We’ll let them do whatever they like.” Jett said casually while wandering off with a yawn. “If they just want to settle here that’s fine, we have plenty of space. If we have _anything_ it’s space.”

“At least go and greet them!” His boss exclaimed, mortified by how uncouth his young country was.

“I don’t feel like it.” Jett muttered while looking up into a tree, searching for a goanna he swore had scuttled up there. “Just let them settle in and send that guy home.”

“That guy? What a brat you are.” Jett turned at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and found himself face to face with those red eyes. Far too close to him and far too gleefully mischievous. Jett stumbled back with a yelp, causing the other nation to laugh. It was the most obnoxious sound Jett had ever heard!

“Ah keseseses! Why you’re nothing but a little kinder!” Jett glared at the other but cleared his throat seeing as this nation was going to be settling in with a few people. They needed to have fairly civil relations for that.

“I’m Australia. I hope you and your people settle in nicely here. Incidentally try not to let the snakes, sharks, lizards, spiders and various other deadly animals kill you while you rest. In addition to that try not to starve, be positioned, freeze overnight or drop dead from heatstroke.” Jett smiled but it was paper thin and his eye was twitching. Why the hell did this nation have to be here? Couldn’t he just go away?

“Ja! I’m sure this place will do nicely for the awesome people of mine. I am the awesome Prussia!” Jett was about to snap something along the lines of ‘then awesomely go home’ but the other cut across him as he looked down at a young boy clinging to his leg.

“This here is mein little bruder. Go on introduce yourself.” The Prussia urged but the young boy only clung tighter to his cloak and glared at the ground. The boy didn’t look too much like his older brother with blonde hair and blue hues that held a constant serious expression, he was also much quieter than the elder which to Jett was a good thing.

“You’re being rude.” Prussia scolded his brother. “Go on say hello.” Slowly the blue eyes turned towards Jett and he was surprised by the serious expression he held.

“Hello. It is a pleasure to meet you.” The boy was well spoken when he did open his mouth at least.

“Pleasure’s all mine…” Jett murmured finally, deciding against being mean to the younger looking male.

The thing was that even though the boy appeared to be younger than him…Jett was pretty damn sure that he was older. Nations didn’t age like humans, it didn’t have anything to do with years so much as it did the condition of their countries and when he looked at the boy Jett could see instantly that he held many more years on him despite his small body. Jett frowned, not liking the whole pleasantries bit but…all the same the kid didn’t seem half bad and while he’d never vocally admit to it Jett wanted to be kind to the kid. He couldn’t help it, ankle biters were just a soft spot for Jett, they always had been.

Taking one knee in front of the young boy that remained half hidden behind his elder brother Jett held out his hand with a stony face. “Really…it’s nice to meet you little mate.” Jett might have smiled but he had a feeling the kid wouldn’t take him seriously if he grinned like the older nation by his side.

The kid stared at him with those cool blue eyes for quite a long time before slowly reaching out and putting his little hand in Jett’s larger hand, causing the male to finally smile freely and he shook hands with the kid. Prussia might be loud and annoying but the kid was fine.

“…Will big bruder really die out here?” He asked quietly, no emotion in his voice as he looked up at Jett who glanced up at Prussia before back to the kid in front of him.

“Tell you what, because he’s your brother I’ll keep the spiders out of his bed okay?” Smiling Jett pat the kid on the head. “But only because you asked.”

“Thank you. Mister Australia.” The two shook hands like adults and the cold child ended up breaking a smile back at Jett.

“Well looks like we’re friends!” The Prussian exclaimed and Jett huffed turning a harsher look onto the other.

“Yeah fine. You can come visit whenever you like, provided you keep your vital regions stealing nonsense at home.” Prussia shot his hand out to Jett as well and much like he and the younger male had they joined hands.

After that the Prussian immigrants settled in his land and thankfully they didn’t cause any trouble, they were welcome to stay and as a result the Prussia and his little brother would occasionally visit.

“He wanted to come and see the outback.” Prussia would explain when they came for one of their usual visits. “Interested in your weird little land down here I guess.” Jett didn’t mind, it was nice to occasionally have other company and besides, that boy stuck close to him when he showed him around the land.

The kid was young but he was clever and Jett always enjoyed showing him around, whenever they’d leave he’d tell the boy.

“Come back whenever you want. This can be your home too okay?” With a smile he’d send the boy off after doing the usual ritual. Taking a kneeling stance and holding his hand in his own before saying goodbye, waiting for the time they’d visit again.

One day however they didn’t arrive on the day that they always seemed to. Jett consoled himself to wait another day…and then another….and another.

They never returned and eventually Jett forgot. Storing away the memory of Prussia and the boy in the very backs of his mind as his focus shifted onto Arthur and the native boy.

Just like that Jett had completely forgotten that he’d already befriended Prussia and Germany.  
Just like that Jett forgot he’d ever had friends like them.

 

…  
…(Back to present)  
…

 

“So you did remember us!” Prussia exclaimed, interrupting Jett as he came barrelling into the room, having apparently been spying on the other side of the door. Jett gave a small shrug as he finished bandaging Ludwig’s hand and sat back.

“Well I had forgotten to be straight with ya.” He admitted with a small frown, having completely forgotten that Prussia had indeed sent some settlers to his island home all that time ago. “I didn’t remember until just now. Guess your annoying voice brought back annoying memories.”

“Hey! The awesome me is not an annoying memory. You should be honoured the great Prussia decided to visit your lands!” Jett merely smirked, ignoring the silver haired male’s injured pride as he looked back to Germany.

“Mate.” He murmured, standing up so that he was standing just a bit taller than Germany when he sat on the bed. After a small pause where Ludwig didn’t meet his gaze Jett’s arms gently wrapped around Ludwig’s head, hugging him to his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to forget about you ankle biter.”

“I’m older than you…” Ludwig choked out, no doubt embarrassed by this affectionate display but hell Jett was embarrassed to! He just had to deal through it with him.

“Yeah but you were only as tall as my knee once upon a time.” Jett laughed and Prussia snickered along with him.

“They do grow up to be so big don’t they?” Gilbert laughed, after all Germany was younger than them both in age and body but he still easily dwarfed his big brother.

“Knock it off!” Germany barked but the two just kept laughing at him, muttering things between themselves about him being a cute little kid. Ludwig’s face couldn’t possibly resemble a tomato anymore than it did in that moment.

“Ve, ve! Nihon. Nihon! I found them!” Italy’s voice came from the other side of the door and in similar fashion to Prussia’s entrance he came flying in only to latch himself to Ludwig’s neck.

“Chocking!” Germany growled out, trying to detach to smiling Italian. While Germany struggled to breathe Japan appeared in the doorway.

“What happened?” He asked looking at the open first aid kit and Germany’s bandaged hand. Italy noticed it after Japan drew attention to it.

“Ah! Doitsu, doitsu! Are you hurt?” He whined worriedly and Ludwig shook his head.

“Nein, just a cut. Don’t worry about it.” He lied for Jett’s sake. That was good, he didn’t want to explain bitting Germany to the others. “Hardly even feel it, Jett was just fussing.”

“Keseses, like a little girly!” Prussia added and Jett took a fist full of his shirt, immediately beginning their usual scuffle.

“I won Prussia! You’re the girl!” Jett was shouting as the two of them crashed to the ground and began rolling about to try and pin the other.

“Nein! It wasn’t fair, Japan ruined my spot.” Gilbert argued his case.

“Too bad. Loser, loser, the awesome Prussia is a loser!” Jett was laughing so hard his sides might just split but not for the first time he was punished for getting to bold and during their play fight his stitches got torn. Giving a grunt of pain Jett lost the upper hand and got pinned by Prussia who started to crow about his victory before seeing the blood seeping through Jett’s bandages.

“Bruder!” Germany growled, ripping the older German away from Jett as he studied the wound, pulling the stained bandages aside with ease while glaring at Jett as though he was a child.

“Oh my…” Japan murmured, placing a hand over his mouth while Italy began to cry again. Determined not to make a scene Jett sat up and smiled at the two.

“It’s fine, can’t feel a thing.” He was a bad liar…No one believed him for a second.

“You two should go home.” Germany sighed finally. “I’ll need to restitch this…” There was a glint in Germany’s eyes that everyone completely missed…excluding Prussia who turned a sickly shade of green at the thought of Germany tending to Jett’s wound again.

“No, no, no!” Italy cried, shaking his head wildly before diving to Jett’s side, clinging to his arm tightly. “I want to stay with Jett!”

“Italy…” Germany sighed in agitation but he found it hard to be furious when Italy made that pitiful crying face.

“I agree.” Japan said calmly. “I’d not feel right, leaving Australia-san injured without knowing his condition. Please allow us to stay.”

“Ah! I know, I know!” Italy cried, his tears turning to excitement. “Let’s have a sleep over! Sleep over, sleep over!”

“A what…?” Jett asked, bewildered by the suggestion. “Isn’t that for girls or something?”

Italy looked mortified. “Has Jett never had a sleep over?”

“Not that I remember…” He answered uncertainly, what was the big deal.

“How awful. Well we’ll be your first sleep over. That makes us the very best of friends!” Italy declared happily. “I sleep over at Doitsu’s house all the time.”

“Ja…it’s true.” Germany admitted, looking as though he had unpleasant memories. “How he gets in all the time is beyond me…”

“A sleep over? Well it wouldn’t be awesome without the awesome me!” Prussia declared with a grin. “I’m in. You losers would be lost without me.”

“I’m quite happy to set up a futon to sleep on for the night.” Japan spoke in his usual quiet tone but he was smiling also. “A sleep over sounds quite appropriate to celebrate our new friendship. Germany-san, what do you think?”

Looking between all the extant faces Germany had to fold and with a heavy sigh he finally nodded.  
“Ja. A sleep over to commemorate our new friendship.”

After that things moved very quickly. Japan made up beds in the living room for them all. Germany stitched Jett up while shouting at Italy to keep it clean as he made them pasta for dinner. Prussia lounged lazily on the ground while picking out the most awesome movies to watch that night and Jett just…stared. Dumbfounded by the setting he saw. The four of them really were close, they worked perfectly together and Jett felt out of place.

Germany noticed it as well and would occasionally reassure Jett before scolding him about moving while being patched up. Jett wasn’t sure why but Ludwig seemed dissatisfied with the patch up and when asked about it he shook his head and told Jett it was simply because the last time it had gone more smoothly, though he looked like he was lying.

“Tomorrow.” Jett said once Germany cut the string of the stiches. His attention caught by Jett’s sudden speaking he turned to look at him. “I’ll go home to get Chris.” He decided with a faint smile. “He’s been spamming my phone with messages since yesterday. Can’t keep him waiting much more.”

When he sat in the room that would be their sleep over nest for the night he got a kind of…warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. It felt like home to him and he needed Chris there for it to be perfect. He and Chris would be the perfect Australia in the most perfect treaty with the most perfect new friends.

Jett didn’t consider for a second that Chris may not feel that way.

Germany smiled back at him though he was very much aware that Christian may not agree.  
“Your little bruder is welcome here of course. We need him here as well. But don’t strain yourself, if your body doesn’t feel up to it tomorrow you can wait another day.”

“Naw, I’ll go grab him tomorrow. I’ll be fine.” Jett smiled as he made up his mind.

“Yo, you two.” Prussia cut in, holding up a few movies for them to pick from. “What do you want to watch?”

“Gah!” Germany shouted in alarm, face exploding bright red when he saw one of the movies that his brother was holding and quickly snatched away. Jett just caught sight of something like bondage on the front. “B-Bruder! Where did you get the?”

“Huh? Oh from the box under your bed.” Prussia grinned and clicked his fingers smugly. “You know the one, the box with all your toys and por- ngh!” Prussia’s mouth was covered by Germany who quickly put him in a head lock, laughing nervously.

“U-Uh, we’ll go upstairs! J-Ja, to get…blankets.” With that Ludwig hastily dragged a struggling Gilbert out of the room, still as red as a tomato. Jett could barely contain his laughter, so Ludwig was that kind of pervert? He never would have guessed with how uptight he was.

After that they did end up watching some movies, thankfully none that Gilbert had snatched away from Germany’s stash or his own. When the two brothers returned one was red from embarrassment and the other red from being beaten. Despite the fact Gilbert came back bruised he was still laughing and grinning the whole time, denying that he was hurt at all when he obviously was. Brothers played rough sure but Gilbert must have had a death wish.

As the hours passed Jett felt more at ease with the four. Italy cooked like a mad while German hovered over his shoulder cautiously making sure it stayed clean while Prussia, Japan and Australia sat on the carpet watching movies and chatting.  
Soon day turned to night and they were getting hungry.

“You like our manga?” Japan was asking, seeming surprised.

“Well..yeah I mean…it’s aright I guess.” Jett was embarrassed to admit just how much he liked the stuff, Chris always did laugh at him for it. “Your horror is pretty good to…” He added sheepishly.

“I’d be happy to give you some if you like?” Japan offered and Jett had shot up like an excited child before composing himself to grunt a yes, trying not to blush and stop himself from throttling the laughing Prussia.

“Pasta is ready!” Italy shouted as he entered the room, balancing all the bowls of pasta at once. Immediately Germany leapt up to stop Italy from dropping them all over himself and Germany’s lovely carpet.   
As expected the food was brilliant and Italy was only silent when eating, much to everyone’s relief.

“I told you that you should always eat good food Jett.” Italy beamed after they’d finished eating and were climbing into their beds while Germany took away the plates. Poor Ludwig got stuck with clean up duty. Well…Jett did get up to offer his held but was scolded and sent to bed. Ludwig didn’t want him opening up his wound a second time.

“Yeah, it tastes great Feli.” Jett agreed as he climbed into the Japanese style bed that had been set up for him, he was surprised at how comfortable it was considering he was sleeping on the ground.

“Much better than that awful English food.” Prussia piped in while he crawled into his bed headfirst. Idiot.

“Oh you mean that food that you couldn’t even choke down?” Jett asked slyly.

“Hey! I could eat it if I wanted, the awesome me just didn’t feel like it.”

“That or you’re not that awesome-“

“Mgh! Get orf…stupid Gil!” The sounds of two men wrestling around on the ground sounded at Prussia tried to throttle him, dragging their beds together in the process.

“Your foot is in my face!”

“Gut, mein awesome foot with choke you like that English food!”

“P-Please you two.” Japan tried to speak but was drowned out by shouting.

“Ow, mein awesome foot! Let go!”

“Mhgh!” Jett growled from around the foot he was biting.

“Ve, Ve! They look so funny! I want to try too.”

“I-Italy please. That doesn’t mean you can bite me to.”

“Hey! Don’t pull my hair!”

“I’m not!” Jett snarled but when he looked up at Gilbert in the darkly lit room he saw the shine of his fairy friend, look like she was sticking around and she was pulling Gil’s hair mighty hard.

“Chip, Chip!” Gilbrid came to Prussia’s rescue, pushing the fairy away. Animals and magical beings had always been friends after all.

“Ouch, ouch! Let go of mein awesome five meters!”

“What the fuck!? I’m not-“

“What the hell are you doing!?” The house shook with Germany’s shouting when he came in to see… _this_. The four males each out of their respective beds and rolling about like children. Well, Japan got roped in unwillingly.

“Burder he’s touching mein five meters!”

“I’m bloody well not!” Jett snarled, face red at the thought of what he was implying.

“Y-You two…please.” Japan tried to warn them.

“Ve, doitsu is mad!”

_Crash!_

“C-Choking! Bruder!”

“G-Gah, can’t breathe…wanker!”

“Now settle down you two!”

“Gilbert where the fuck are you touching!? Keep away from my AC!”

“Kesesese!”

And so the night went that not a single one of them got a wink of sleep and Germany left both Australia and Prussia with bruises to regret the day after.

 

…  
…  
…

 

Rejection- End.


	5. Civil-War

_Chris backed up against the kitchen bench, sending dirty pots and pans clattering to the ground but still he pushed his body further back, hand desperately searching for something to defend himself with._

_“What are you doing little brother…?” The person Chris saw now_ looked _like his brother but not the one he knew. The face that smiled at him now sent his heart pounding violently in his chest._

_“You’re so quiet Chris. What’s wrong, your face looks funny.” A soft chuckle sounded from the brother look alike as he approached. “You almost look scared.”_

_Slowly his elder brother was descending on him, walking closer with every slow step closing the distance between them far too quickly. Still Chris had run out of room to run and could only search blindly behind him for something, for anything._

_“Are you perhaps…trying to run away from me? Christian?” His body froze, the brother look alike no longer smiled and instead bore an expression of intense hatred that caused Chris’s heart to stop dead and leap into his throat. Turning away Chris looked for a weapon but turning his back to the other male was a mistake. Not a moment later the other was on him, the shadow of his body rising up above him._

_“I won’t allow it.” And the machete came down._

 

…  
… (Some time before that)  
…

 

“Have you got everything you need?” Germany was fussing over him. Checking his bandages twice, checking his bag and clothes once over as well before checking his wound for a third time.

“Jeez mate, calm down. I’m just going to pick up Chris.” Jett laughed waving off the worried Germany. “Besides, if you make too much of a fuss Italy will wake up.”

“Nein, an earthquake wouldn’t wake him till he was ready.” Ludwig sighed, the two looking back into the living room where Italy and Prussia lay sprawled out, the awesome king snoring contently. “I’m worried that England and America may have already sent people for your burder.”

“Yeah, I’m worried too. That’s why I’m going right away. I can’t leave my brother to get caught by those guys.” Jett made a worried face and Ludwig sighed before resting his hand atop Jett’s head.

“Don’t make faces like that Jett.” He muttered, face flushing a faint red as he spoke. “If you make sad faces all the time I’ll end up going with you.”

“I’m fine really.” Jett smiled just to put Ludwig’s mind at ease. Ludwig’s large hand on his head was comforting in a way. Arthur used to pet his head like this as well…but he’d done it to ignore him and when Ludwig did it he felt a little more seen. Jett didn’t want to go back to being on his own so he had to finish his perfect home by getting Chris. Maybe he’d stop by and see Zea as well.

“Ve….Doitsu…” Italy’s sleepy voice whined and both countries turned to see Italy sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Eh? Is Jett leaving?” He pouted.

“Just ducking out to grab some things. I’ll be back before you know it.” Jett smiled and watched at Italy scrambled out of bed on shaky legs to stumble over to them.

“Hug…hug…” Italy held his arms out, standing on tippy toes. At first Jett was taken off guard, not expecting a goodbye hug. “Hug, kiss. Hug, kiss.” He kept whining and waving his arms around. After a careful glance at Ludwig –who shrugged with a ‘better do it’ look –Jett smiled.

“Alright, easy mate.” He murmured and warped his arms around Italy. He could feel the Italian smiling and by the side of his head Jett noticed his little curl twitch into a heart. What the hell was that thing? Jett reached out, wanting to grab it but Ludwig caught his hand quickly, confusing him.

“Best you don’t pull that…” He spoke from experience no doubt. “Feli, let go. Jett has to go.” Ludwig ordered and Feli complained in his usual whimpers as he let go.

“Kiss, kiss.” He murmured looking at Jett expectantly. “Goodbye kiss.”

Uh….okay…?   
Jett again looked between Ludwig and Italy, finding Ludwig to be of no help this time. So ignoring how awkward it made him feel Jett lent down and kissed Italy’s cheek. He could feel his face exploding at the action but Feli seemed overjoyed.

“Eh, doitsu! You say goodbye to!” Italy exclaimed, bouncing up to grab Germany’s sleeve excitedly. “Say bye to Jett to!”

“What are you talking about? I already have.” Ludwig grunted, again his face flushing red as he obviously understood what Italy wanted. Jett snickered and stepped forward to hold his hand out to Ludwig, hoping that small goodbye would be enough to quell Italy.

Ludwig paused briefly before taking Jett’s open hand in his own but much to the Australian’s surprise he pulled him into an awkward hug anyway. This time it was Jett that turned tomato red. Ludwig was much taller than him and Jett caught himself staring right into his chest, making him feel rather on the small end of the scale.

 _Ludwig is surprisingly warm._  
Jett thought offhandedly. Ludwig’s boy radiated warmth but his large hands always seemed cold to Jett. Perhaps it was just his hands? Jett’s eyes closed as he wrapped his arms back around Ludwig, hoping Italy would be satisfied.  
_He smells like gunpowder. He has a much sharper scent than me and Chris. Actually…now I think of it Chris always smelt like the beach salt and bush land._

Jett’s mind was starting to wander when Ludwig spoke gently to him.  
“Sorry. Feli would have pestered me if I didn’t say goodbye this way. Bitte, bear with it a little longer.” His voice was hushed against Jett’s ear and the Australian got the distinct impression that Ludwig thought he despised close contact.  
And that was true. But he didn’t hate this so much, he wasn’t going to make a habit of it but it wasn’t as though Ludwig’s closeness disgusted him.

When Ludwig shifted back Jett turned his head towards him, hoping to say something to put Germany’s mind at ease but realised his mistake a little bit late.  
With neither male meaning to their lips connected.   
Ludwig had intended to simply kiss his cheeks as he would to Italy but because of Jett’s newness to this form of goodbye he had moved in such a way that accidently caught the two in an unintentional kiss.

The two of them were frozen in the action, both with their eyes wide and blush spreading like wild fire across their faces. Jett was a stranger to kissing and found the sensation to be rather bizarre. Ludwig always seemed like stone so Jett was surprised at the softness of his lips, he wondered faintly if his own mouth was so soft and gentle. Ludwig’s hand was around his waist, holding him close while the other rest on his cheek. Jett felt like a girl under Ludwig’s larger form and even if it was an accident he didn’t want to be the girl when being kissed!

Especially not when it was his first real kiss!  
Rightfully Jett exploded.  
But thankfully he wasn’t the only one.

Both Ludwig and Jett seemed to gain control over their bodies at the same time and the two leapt away from one another with a cry of alarm. Their arms flailing back wildly at the dove away from one another, Jett covered his mouth quickly and hid away in the corner so no one could see his glowing face.   
On the other side of the room Ludwig seemed to be doing something similar and the two wallowed in self pity while Italy bounced back and forth between them in puzzlement.

“Ve, what’s wrong? Ludwig? Jett? What’s wrong?” He asked buzzing between the two of them to try and figure out why they were so mortified. Of course Italy didn’t get it.

“I-Italy! Didn’t you just see…?” Jett choked out behind his hands. “I…uh we…”

“Ci, you kissed.” Italy piped up like it was obvious. “Ve, Luddy and Jett are cute. Urk!” Ludwig had Italy in a headlock immediately after the words left the little Italian’s mouth. Jett peered back at Ludwig from the corner of his eye but didn’t dare turn to face him, knowing he was bright red.  
Ludwig looked similar, his face red and eyes closed as his eye brow twitched down slightly in agitation even as he choked poor Feli.

“S-Sorry Australia.” He said formally, just about as horrified at Jett. “That…that was not my intention I assure you, it was an accident.”

“Y-Yeah!” Jett jumped up laughing nervously as he grabbed up his bag. “M-My bad. I’ll be going now! See you when I get home L-Lud!” He shouted before fleeing from the house, slamming the door open as he all but threw himself from it, desperate to escape the awkwardness of that accident behind him as he ran. He’d never, ever tell a soul about that.

“Lud…?” Germany repeated, not sure he’d heard Jett right. Had he just used a nickname on him? Ludwig had almost forgotten about the gagging Italy as he watched Jett’s form slowly growing smaller in the distance, when embarrassed Australia ran just about as fast as a retreating Italy. Despite the embarrassment of that scene Ludwig smiled.

“D-Doitsu.” Italy gagged, reminding Germany he held the little Italian and immediately let go, watching his gasp for breath.

“Sorry.” He murmured with a sheepish smile before noticing something shift from the corner of his eyes. Looking up he saw his brother had rolled onto his side and was no longer snoring. Ludwig’s gaze narrowed slightly knowing immediately Gilbert had been watching them.  
His big brother was beginning to become troublesome. Ludwig was sure that he was thinking about trying to stop this and Ludwig disliked his growing closeness to Jett just about as much as Gilbert hated Ludwig’s closeness to him.

“Bruder are you up?” He asked, trying to keep the edge from his words. It took a while before a reply came from the bundle of blankets.

“Ja. Saw you make a fool of yourself, loser!” Gilbert laughed but still did not face Ludwig and the German knew perfectly well he’d not be laughing if he had responded honestly. “A little bit of an improbable accident, ja? What are the odds of that happening by chance? How unlucky, keseses.” Ludwig grit his teeth.

“Ja, very unlucky.” Ludwig responded frigidly. Ludwig walked through the living room, past Gilbert into the kitchen. “I’ll make breakfast, ja?”

“Ve I’ll help!” Italy exclaimed, forgetting about the choking immediately as he bounced after Ludwig like a good little puppy.

“Danke.” Ludwig pat Italy on the head before adding. “Don’t make a mess.”

“Ci!” Italy saluted before diving into the cooking with his usual gusto. Meanwhile Ludwig stole a glance over his shoulder and sure enough his blue hues clashed with glaring red ones. So now Gilbert was even suspicious of small accidents?  
Let’s see him try to prove anything.

With his back to Gilbert, Ludwig grinned.

 

...  
...  
...

 

“They’re mad.” Chris consoled himself as he sat on the edge of his bed. The curtains were drawn in the dusty little room and somehow even the usual critters that scuttled around seemed to have hidden themselves away, determined to keep to keep out of this uncomfortable atmosphere. The sun must have risen by now but Chris couldn’t tell, he’d not shut his eyes for hours, having been dragged from sleep by the usual nightmares.  
“Jett’s no killer.”

 _Bloody machete._  
Tear stained smile.  
The dark skinned boy.

Growling Chris pressed his palm against his forehead, willing the hellish images away. Opening his tired eyes Chris glared at the mirror that sat at the end of their bed. _Their_ bed. That’s right, he had to remember that he and Jett were brothers, this was some sort of rough patch. Once Jett finally came around he’s clap him on the upside of the head and they’d go to the beach together.   
As he stared at his reflection Chris noticed something unsettling. The longer he looked at his gaunt face with dark bags under his eyes and the expression of despair be realised he looked like…well…Jett.

Raising his head from his hands Chris pushed himself from the bed rapidly approaching the mirror, placing his hands against it as he stared into his exhausted eyes.  
Sure enough it was there, the proof in his eyes that he had nightmares and no sleep. This was the expression that Jett always wore after waking from a nightmare.

‘ _He can no longer take your nightmares_.’ That’s what England said right? Had the reason that he never dreamed before really been Jett…stealing them? His hand formed into a fist against the glass. Had Jett been protecting him from these nightmares? Why? How had he even known, how had he even done it?  
They were linked as brothers and as a country but Jett never mentioned it and Chris never knew the power of a country’s bond to go that deep. The only person he could thing of asking was Italy, but when he thought about those two he couldn’t imagine them doing anything similar.

For a second Chris swore the image on the mirror was replaced with Jett and he stumbled away from it but it was brief and again the person behind the mirror was him. A ragged and worn him. It was simply too much for Chris to bear anymore and without thinking he slammed his fist into the mirror, cracking the fragile glass.  
A reflection of Jett had scared him, a fucking _reflection_ that didn’t even exist.  
Bitting his lip Chris’s knees gave out and buckled under him so that he was resting against the mirror, panting heavily.

There was no denying it, Chris was afraid of Jett.   
The nightmares had not only stolen his sleep but planted a seed of doubt in his mind.

“My brother wouldn’t keep secrets from me.” Chris reasoned with himself, sure that this was all just in his head but when he looked at the mirror the Chris on the other side spoke back to him, putting voice to his doubts.

_“Unexplained nightmares. Secretive attitude.”_

“My big brother would never hurt me.” He whispered weakly, arguing with his own cracked reflection.

_“A bloody machete.”_

“No! He wouldn’t!” Chris grabbed his head, fingers pulling at his hair violently.

_“We met on an unmarked grave.”_

“Stop it. You’re wrong.” His mind was betraying him, the voice turning on him in a violent manner.

 _“Who’s grave was it?  
_ There was a pause. __  
….Was it yours?”

“Shut up!” Chris roared, again slamming his fist into the mirror and this time the glass came raining down on him. Some of the sharper and heavier pieces pierced his flesh on the way down but Chris barely felt a thing. Instead he was distracted by the terror he felt when he caught sight of what lay on the ground below him. Under Chris on the broken pieces of glass was no longer a version of Jett or his own face talking back to him.  
It was that boy.   
The boy that was hardly clothed and had dark skin and face like his own was staring back at him from each and every shard of the mirror, dark eyes boring into his chest and then he spoke. For the first time the silent boy spoke to him.

_“Who are you?”_

Chris’s eyes widened and at the corners he felt salty tears budding. “I’m Australia…” He whispered, voice cracking on the words.

_“Are you?”_

The boy replied, expression dead. He did not glare but he did not smile, he merely watched through the mirror.  
“Yes! I’m Chris Kirkland, I am Australia!” Chris shouted at the image and the boy looked down with a faint smile.

_“Is that your name? Is it really?”_

Chris gripped at his chest, pain ripping through him unrelentingly, brining him down lower to the ground as he gasped and gagged on his own air. Images tore through his mind again, an offered hand and smile. The bloody field and loss of a generation and the pain that came with death.

_“Forgotten who you are?”_

“I know who I am!” Chris screamed, glaring at the boy in the mirror.  “You’re not real. You’re just some nightmare I had. Go away, never come back…. _I’m not you_!”

“Mate…?” An uncertain call sounded through the house leaving silence in its wake. Chris stopped shouting and hardly a spider did scuttle in the empty void left behind after his voice stopped calling out.   
“Uh…Chris I’m home.” Chris’s head jerked up. He’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“Jett…” Chris breathed, a smile forming past the tears and not a second later he leapt up from the ground, ignoring the glass that cut into his palms and soles of his feet. Ignoring the image of the boy that vanished from the broken mirror shards. It no longer mattered, Jett had come home.  
As he ran to the top of the stairs Chris looked down into the hallway and sure enough standing there in the open doorway was Jett.  
Looking up the stairs at Chris his big brother smiled warmly.

“Good morning bone head. You know it’s already midday right? Do you never get up on tim-” He asked but his words were cut off when Chris flew down the steps and right into his arms. Jett stumbled back, dropping his bag as his arms wrapped around Chris as a reflex. Jett’s expression softened when he looked down at the younger brother that clung to him. “Yeah, yeah. Missed you to.” He murmured, arms wrapping around him tightly.

“I called you and texted you, you fucking gronk!” Chris snapped, pushing away from him to punch his brother’s shoulder. “I thought you were passed out in some alleyway or dead for all I knew. Did you have any idea how worried I was? Stupid bloody bogan!” Chris began to rage and Jett took it all laughing sheepishly and apologising.

“I know, I know. I ran out of credit and I only got them last night. Sorry, it won’t happen again.” Chris let out a heavy sigh and lent forward weakly, head pressing against Jett’s chest. Smiling sadly Jett wrapped his arms around Chris’s head comfortingly. “I really am sorry. Come on mate, don’t get all down on me.”

“Bastard…” He muttered softly, trying not to cry. He’d never been so relieved to see Jett in all his life. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s a promise.” Collecting himself Chris got off Jett and the two went back into the living room as though nothing had happened. Simply happy to be back together once again. Sure Chris ragged out on Jett for a solid hour before they finally decided that lunch was due but that was normal behaviour. For everyone else lunch was twelve but for Australia it was about two that afternoon.

“You hungry? I’ll make some sangers if you like?” Chris offered as he walked into the kitchen and Jett collapsed on the couch, only after dragging his bag over of course.

“Yeah, I didn’t eat before I left.” Jett agreed as Chris started the microwave but suddenly the younger stopped as though a light had been switched in his head. Standing up slowly and still facing away from Jett, Chris spoke cautiously, careful not to let his voice betray him.

“Where were you anyway? Did you crash at someone’s place?” He asked, hand tightening by his side. How could he be so foolish?

“Where was I?” Jett asked, sounding a little taken off guard as though he hadn’t thought of an appropriate lie before walking in. “Ah right… that is…” Jett stumbled for a story but Chris already knew.  
Shit, how could he so stupid?  
Images of England’s face popped into Chris’s mind. He knew where Jett had been, he knew what he’d done and who he’d been with. But Chris didn’t let his brother know about this knowledge…he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Oh yeah. I crashed with Prussia for a bit.” Jett answered casually, finally picking a lie that fit well enough. Looks like they were playing the lying game with one another.

“Oh.” Chris replied while his fingers drummed away on the kitchen counter anxiously. What was he meant to say? Blurt out that he knew what Jett had really been doing?  
That’s what he’d planned on doing but now that Jett was sitting in the room opposite him Chris became increasingly aware of the gap between them. He’d been blinded by relief when Jett arrived home but the numbness where Jett’s heart usually sat was still very much there. His brother had come home but only in body.

“Chris. Mate.” Chris flinched when Jett called to him. “Machine’s beeping.” Jett informed him and Chris laughed stupidly.

“Aha…r-right. Yeah. Let’s see here…” He murmured, hands shaking slightly as he reached in to pull out their lunch. It smelt bloody gorgeous but it looked like shit. Well, neither of them would complain if it tasted right.  “Might be a bit stale.” Chris told Jett while walking over with the plates.

“When is it not?” Jett replied with his usual grumble before reaching out to take his plate. His shirt shifted in such a way that…Chris saw something strange. Where those bandages? No one had mentioned anything about Jett being hurt, was it his imagination?  
“Thanks mate.” Jett spoke, drawing Chris’s attention back to his brother.

“No problem.” He was about to sit down but before his body finished preforming the action his eye caught the bag by Jett’s foot.  
Sticking out the end of the bag was Jett’s machete, blood still caked on its blade.

It was as though a bucket of icy water was tipped over Chris and he abruptly stood from his almost sitting position.

“Y-You know, I’m not feeling too hot.” Jet was peering up at him in puzzlement that only got worse when Chris shoved his plate towards Jett. “You can have mine.”

“What?” Jett was mortified. “You never even share food and now you want to give me yours? You stabbed me with a fork when I tried to take one of your potatoes, remember?” Jett set down his food and stood so he was eye level with Chris, hand reaching out to touch his forehead. “You dying or something?

“No!” Chris jerked back before adding hastily. “I’m fine. Just a little crook.” Chris took another step back but this time Jett followed after him and panic began to rise up in Australia, Jett looked a little bit off in the way he stared at Chris.

“You’re not acting right.” He murmured and that tone was not exactly comforting. “You never move away from me…” Jett paused and Chris didn’t miss how his hands tightened into fists by his sides. “Did America come here?”

“N-No.” It was a feeble denial, pushed out too quickly for Jett’s taste but again Chris tried to amend his error. “America wouldn’t waste time coming here unless he wanted to try wrestling with a croc right? If you whana see him you’d have to do it at his place, ay?” Chris laughed warmly, but it was a weak sound and Jett didn’t look terribly convinced.

“Chris.” When Jett spoke in that dead tone Chris tensed up. When Jett raised his head Chris was taken aback by the expression on his usually snarling face. Jett was smiling, but it most certainly wasn’t warm or genuine. “You’re completely right, that yank is too arrogant to visit here.” Even as Jett agreed with him and turned away Chris felt no less uneasy.

“He’s just a rotten little bastard.” Jett continued casually, crouching to his knees by his bag. “He’s really not worth the trouble of talking to. So you won’t talk to him…will you?”

“Mate, what are you getting at…?” Chris asked slowly but stopped when he saw Jett’s hand reaching for the handle of his machete. Fingers just brushing over the rough surface.

“You won’t talk to him…or England. Will you?” He repeated standing up, thankfully leaving the machete back down in the bag, it was as if he just wanted Chris to see it.

“No, no of course not mate.” Chris backed up cautiously, not wanting Jett to see him moving back. “Why would I…talk to those two when you’re here, right?” He was trying hard, really bloody hard to come up with some better lies.

“Liar.” Chris tensed at the cold response. When he looked up he saw Jett give a sigh and roll of his shoulders before continuing in an exhausted voice. “They’ve already been here, haven’t they.” He was no longer asking, it was a simple stating of facts.

“Mate…” Chris wanted to spill another excuse but suddenly Jett turned on him, eyes ablaze with some kind of betrayal that Chris didn’t immediately understand.

“So why are you still here? Perfectly fine when I would have been dragged off in chains? If they’ve already been here why are you still here? Why have they spared you?” Jett growled, advancing on Chris who no longer hid the distance he was trying to put between them. “Unless you’ve been on their side this whole time right? You wouldn’t do that to me though. Would you Christian?”

“Mate! You’re acting crazy.” Chris finally snapped back, no longer dancing around his words. Jett was being awfully frightening –scrap that– fucking crazy! Chris was careful to keep a good few paces away from him. “I’m not-….Arthur isn’t against you. He’s just-“

“So you admit it!” Jett snarled. “You’ve been with England!” Jett lashed out, closing the distant more quickly than Chris had anticipated, taking hold of Chris’s upper arm in an iron grip to shake him. “Well? What did they tell you? What did those fucking bastards say to you that made you lie to me? Huh? Answer me!”

“H-Hurts…” Chris gasped out as he was squeezed to the point where he thought the bone may snap. Jett stopped shaking him immediately, leaving Chris cringing in pain and Jett staring at his little brother with wide eyes. He hadn’t meant to grab him so roughly, he’d just been so frantic and angry…he hadn’t meant to hurt him.  
Jett let go of Chris’s arm but kept a slight grip on his sleeve and did not step back. Jett took a shaky breath before speaking in a controlled voice.

“I’m sorry mate. I didn’t mean to grab so harshly.” He apologised while straightening Jett’s clothes like a fretting mother. “You just scared me, I thought you were going to run away. Don’t do it again and let’s forget it happened. Now, what did they tell you?”

“Just…that you ran away.” Chris muttered, the aching in his arm surprisingly him. Jett had always been a tough older brother but never before had he hurt Chris to the extent another country could and now he had a grip as harsh as any other nation would. “And hurt England.”

“So he is alive.” Jett said it in such an emotionless voice that Chris cringed away from him. He’d never known Jett to be so nonchalant about murder.

_Was it yours?_

Chris stepped away from Jett who seemed to be too lost in thought to notice how Chris edged back into the kitchen. He didn’t notice how Chris began to eye the exits and he entirely missed how Chris edged towards the set of knives on the other side of the kitchen.  
That was until Chris’s careless hand knocked over a container of salt, the little glass bottle shattering once it hit the ground.  
Jett’s head snapped up, removing him from whatever thoughts he’d been in. Seeing Chris moving away from him and into the kitchen his eyes narrowed.

“Sorry.” Chris said with a nervous smile. “C-Could you grab me the dirty plates if you’re done eating?” He asked, hoping to try and restore normality. But other than that Chris had little to no idea what to do, he didn’t know how to approach this version of his brother.

Eventually Jett gave a single bow of his head in response and walked back to the living room table to gather up the plates. No one had touched the food that day. As he slowly walked back over to Chris he noticed the other male looking closely at their window. Perhaps Jett would have thought that Chris had broken it in the past but with their current position in mind he immediately knew his brother was searching for a possible escape route if things got nasty.  
That wasn’t acceptable.

“Didn’t I just tell you I didn’t want you running?” Jett growled as he re-entered the kitchen, tossing the dirty plates aside carelessly. Whatever apology Chris had been given was lost and it seemed his brother descended back down into the unreasonable state. Chris jumped at the words and spun away from the window so his back was no longer to Jett and immediately his eyes landed on the machete by Jett’s side. Why did he send him back into the room with his damn machete in it?   
Stupid Chris, stupid, _stupid_ gronk!

( _Oh look we’re here again_ )  
Chris backed up against the kitchen bench, sending dirty pots and pans clattering to the ground but still he pushed his body further back, hand desperately searching for something to defend himself with.

“What are you doing little brother…?” The person Chris saw now looked like his brother but not the one he knew. The face that smiled at him now sent his heart pounding violently in his chest.

“You’re so quiet Chris. What’s wrong, your face looks funny.” A soft chuckle sounded from the brother look alike as he approached. “You almost look scared.”

Slowly his elder brother was descending on him, walking closer with every slow step closing the distance between them far too quickly. Still Chris had run out of room to run and could only search blindly behind him for something, for anything.

“Are you perhaps… really trying to run away from me? Christian?” His body froze, the brother look alike no longer smiled and instead bore an expression of intense hatred that caused Chris’s heart to stop dead and leap into his throat. Turning away Chris looked for a weapon but turning his back to the other male was a mistake. Not a moment later the other was on him, the shadow of his body rising up above him.

“I won’t allow it.” And the machete came down.

Chris pushed away from the counter just in time to see the slash of metal fly past his head and clang off the bench with a sharp screech. That was too close, way too close.   
Jett glared at him from the corner of his eye, still in the position of a strike before he straightened up again, pulling the machete back for another swing.

“M-Mate this is crazy! Stop it, the jokes gone too far.” His words went by ignored and Jett swung again, this time Chris had a better dodge stored up. Another swing and another near miss for Chris.

“Hold _still._ ” Jett snarled as he swiped for Chris again who was beginning to get the hang of keeping himself away from the weapon.

“You’re trying to cut me in two!” Chris shouted back, unable to see how Jett thought telling him to stop running away would convince him to do so. Oh yes, that was a smart idea.

“Don’t be such a baby! I’m going to use the blunt side. Now. Stop. Running!” He growled back and aimed another blow for Chris, finding that he was far too good at evasion to hit easily, so Jett worked on cornering him. It didn’t take long. Chris kept back peddling until he had no more room to back up, being trapped against the counter and the wall.

“Right.” Jett snarled, panting slightly from their little game of slash and dodge but he was feeling fairly victorious. “No more running. This time I got you.” When Jett brought the machete down Chris was still trying to move away, turning his back to Jett when the blade come down in hopes of evading him even in this small space, even if it was only once more. But his attempts only succeeded in protecting the intended target, which was his head.

Chris let out a scream, the sound almost drowning out the sickening crunch of bone under metal, _almost_. Jett’s machete came down on Chris’s hand and true to his word had used the blunt side but that did little to comfort the shattered mess of a hand Chris now possessed. The blunt side of the machete crushing Chris’s hand between it and the cold surface of the counter. Chris grit his teeth trying to keep from screaming again and instead let out a few low groans of pain.

Jett stepped back, not having been ready for the sound of pain that Chris had made or the agonised expression he wore. Jett knew he had to do it, knew he had to render his brother unconscious but he had not intended to shatter his hand. In Jett’s hesitation Chris found his opening.   
Pushing past Jett violently while cradling his own injured hand Chris took off running, finally free from the kitchen as Jett’s voice shouted after him.

Naturally he ran to the front door and – as clichéd as it was – it didn’t budge. Chris rattled the handle a few times with his single working hand, eyes widening as his panic increased. Jett had locked him in before entering? What had his intentions really been from the second he set foot in the house?

“Chris!” Jett’s angry voice hollered and he was getting closer again. “Stop acting childish. We’re just going to go to Germany’s, now come on so I don’t have to knock your brains out.”

“No bloody way I’m going anywhere!” Chris shouted back even as he stumbled away from the door. He needed somewhere to hide and while their house was a utopia of hiding places Chris couldn’t think of one that Jett wouldn’t immediately find.  Despite knowing this Jett stumbled on upstairs as fast as he could, reaching the top floor he looked about frantically. He wanted to try more doors or windows but with their house none of those were an option. The windows they did have were usually too high or jammed shut and the back door hadn’t opened in a decade. All that was left was hiding.

Where could he hide? Somewhere like under the bed would never do, Jett would check those places first and with all the games of hide and seek they played in the past Chris didn’t like his chances. If only their house wasn’t such a fucking mess he could hide….a mess. Immediately an idea dawned on Chris and he ran into their room. Once he was inside he turned to see Jett had not yet made his way up the stairs. He still had some time.  
Shutting the door and jamming it with a chair Chris turned to look at the hiding place he’d found. He could hardly see it in the darkness of the room but sure enough he found what would hopefully be is salvation.

As usual the pile of unwashed clothes and discarded junk was scattered around their room but what Chris wanted was just under it all. Chris had a secret all to himself, under the largest pile of junk was a hole. Sure he’d not meant to make it and sure he’d not told Jett about it and hadn’t gotten around to fixing the hole…but it made a nice place to stuff their clothes right? He didn’t want Jett to know he’d damaged the house at the time so he’d just thrown all their clothes onto it and now he was wildly tossing them out.

“Chris.” Jett’s voice came from the other side of the door while Chris was settling himself down into the hole, having to share it with a few of the clothes he didn’t have time to toss out.   
“I know you’re in there, open the door.” He ordered, the handle jiggling but only getting caught by the chair. Jett snarled in frustration on the other end but Chris paid him no mind as he rapidly dragged clothes on top of himself.

“This is childish brother.” Jett’s voice was slowly growing more and more impatient and the sound of him hitting the door replaced the jiggling of the handle. “Come out this instant! Christian!” Chris finished pulling the clothes and various other discarded items onto himself and waited just as the thought dawned on him….he hadn’t thought this through had he? Stupid, _stupid_ bogan.

Okay, so he was hidden – pretty damn well hidden at that – but so what? Jett could tear the house apart until he found Chris and then he was ruined. No one knew he was here and no one was coming to give Chris a hand. Dread began to pile on top of his earlier panic and the sound of Jett slamming himself against the door didn’t help much. Chris knew he had a phone in his pocket but he’d never been great with technology and if he tried to contact someone…it’d probably make noise and he’d be caught. Not to mention he couldn’t talk to anyone or Jett would hear his voice and with his busted hand he didn’t trust his luck with texting.

“Brother.” While Chris had been trying to figure out how to contact someone while staying hidden he had not noticed that silence fell in the room, in place of the banging against the door. Shit, Jett broke the door, or the chair –oh it didn’t matter! He was in.

“I’m getting a little bit annoyed now.” What had he been before then? Jett was walking around in the room, kicking things about as he searched for his hiding brother.   
“Hide and seek is much more fun at Germany’s house, you’ll like it there. You just have to get England out of your head. I don’t know why you’re running away at all.” Jett spoke in a casual tone but every word caused Chris to shudder.   
“I’m not going to hurt you again. I’m sorry I hit you, I didn’t mean to do that.”

Chris’s hand throbbed from where he clutched it to his chest. Christian was no stranger to broken bones but receiving it from another nation and his brother no less made it all the more tender. Still he kept his peace as he squeezed his hand closer to his chest, listening to Jett make his way around the room. The loud crunch of glass under Jett’s boot catching Chris’s attention, he’d stepped on the glass shards of the mirror.

“What’s this?” More sounds of broken and breaking glass could be heard outside of Chris’s hiding place. “Chris did you break the mirror? For crying out loud…I keep telling you to stop breaking the house Chris!” He was going to be livid if he found the hole Chris was hiding in.   
“Now I got to clean this shit up. What if you cut yourself on it? Did you ever think of that you idiot…?” Jett went off in his ranting and Chris listened as he kicked the glass off to the side. “I’ll make you clean it when I find you.”

“Not under the bed this time?” Jett asked in surprise. “Chris, if I have to look for you much longer I’m going to get angry with you.” Jett was already furious and Chris wasn’t going to come out. Instead with his good hand he sought out the phone in his pocket, careful not to make a racket as he pulled it free.

It took him a while to remember the passcode but when he did the fucking thing made a noise, a tiny little ding sound but thankfully Jett was talking over it. Thank goodness.

“Huh…not the cupboard either? Weird, normally you hide in here like an idiot. Almost every time. Where are you?” Jett sounded almost proud, as though glad his brother was not still so dumb as to hide in the obvious places he was always found.

Now all Chris had to do was try and call England, or should he text even though he only had one working hand? No the thing made clicky sounds when he did that and while they were quiet he wasn’t confident that Jett would miss them all.

“Chris where the fuck are you?” Jett sounded like he was in the bathroom now, knocking down something that made a shattering noise. “I’ve lost my patience with you. When I get my hands on you I’m going to throttle you, ya hear me!?” Well Jett never had won first place for being patient, Chris was impressed he managed to last this long.

“You’re making this hard. We don’t have to be fighting like this, I hate to call it something so harsh but you realise you’re causing a civil war don’t you? We can’t have that. I don’t want to but if you’re going to keep fighting against me I may have to resort to…more drastic measures.” Chris shuddered, he had a feeling his brother was talking about vital regions. He’d heard Prussia boast about how he claimed them in the past. Chris couldn’t, wouldn’t, imagine his own brother considering doing such a thing to him.

Continuing to ignore Jett, Chris looked down at his phone, trying to figure out the fastest way to get out a message for help and remain inconspicuous. He was running out of ideas pretty fast but suddenly it wasn’t up to him anymore.

Buzzing to life in his hand the blasted phone began to play a familiar tune.

_Don't wanna be an American idiot_

That was America’s ringtone!  
_I’m dead…._

 _Don't want a nation under the new mania_  
And can you hear the sound of hysteria?  
  


Silence filled the room and Chris fumbled with the phone to answer, needing it to shut the hell up! It was going to get him murdered.

“Chris…?” Jett’s voice sounded like it was still in the bathroom but there was no way he couldn’t hear this and Chris could hear the smirk in his words. He was dead, so insanely dead.   
Stupid, _stupid_ America!

_The subliminal mind fuck America._

Finally Chris was able to answer the phone clutching it to his head with a hissed answer. “Shh, shut the fuck up!” He snarled, talking more to the phone than America.

“Wow, dude what’s the problem?” America was saying something dumb on the other end and Chris was about to hiss at him again but the abrupt feeling of cold air against his neck and light above him stopped Chris dead. The clothes were being kicked away from over the top of him. He was found.

“America!” Chris shouted, clutching the phone closer. “Get England!” America was stunned into silence on the other end.

“Dude what’s happening? Come on talk to me Australia.” He was talking more seriously but hands were wrapping around Chris, covering his mouth and grabbing the hand that held the phone. Chris knew they were Jett’s hands and they were not gentle in the slightest as he was jerked up from his hiding place.

“Since when did we have a hole in the room?” Jett asked, tone lacking the warmth that Chris was used to hearing. Jett held Chris’s arm up high above his head and with his other hand crushed and useless he was effectively trapped, needing to stand on his tippy toes with how high his brother jerked his arm. “Your doing Chris? What did I tell you about breaking the house?”

The sound of someone on the other end of the phone shouting could faintly be heard even with the phone held so far away from Chris- thank America’s loud voice.   
“Hmm?” Jett looked away from his writhing brother to the phone he continued to tightly clutch.

“Gday, America.” Jett greeted the other cheerfully over the phone. He held Chris’s hand close to his ear with a smirk even though the action twisted Chris’s arm further and brought forward a cry of pain –he wanted to have a quick word.

“J-Jett.” America snarled on the other end of the phone. “You bastard what are you doing to Australia?” Jett’s gaze slipped down to Chris who wasn’t even able to pull his wrist from his elder brother’s grasp. Chris wasn’t tough enough to be Australia, Jett always knew it but now he just had to rectify his mistake.

“I am Australia.” Jett replied pleasantly though he would have liked nothing more than to snap back at his former big brother. “Now if you’d be so kind, I have to sort out some domestic issues with my little brother.” Jett released Chris’s mouth, intending to end the call but his brother was such a noisy little thing.

“Alfred! Alfred, get Arthur!” He shouted as soon as his mouth was free. This annoyed Jett greatly. With a growl he slammed his knee into the back of Chris’s head, it was better to discourage that sort of behaviour early on.

“Yeah, say hi to Artie from us won’t you America? He must be a little uncomfortable since I last saw him.” Jett’s voice dropped all the false pleasantries and became a growl of joy. “Don’t worry, next time I’m not going to leave him breathing.” With his free hand Jett reached forward and crushed Chris’s phone –it was alright he’d buy him a new one if he got too upset. With America taken care of Jett was left to deal with his rebellious little brother, he still seemed dazed from that blow to the back of his head.

Slowly Jett lowered himself down to his knees, keeping Chris’s arm nice and high to keep him steady, not sure he could trust his little brother not to give him a good smack if released. Chris was making pathetic little sounds of pain, Jett was fairly sure that he may have pulled his shoulder from its socket. Leisurely he let his gaze roll over to the arm he held, it didn’t look right bending at that angle.

“Ah. Did I hurt you Chris?” He asked quietly, just able to see Chris staring at him from the corner of his eye with his teeth grit in a grimace of barely contained pain. Seeing Chris wasn’t ready to reply Jett gradually lowered the arm, watching as Chris’s muffled whimpers became a little louder, so it was damaged. “What did I tell you about running..? Now look what you’ve made me do Chris.”

Chris was helpless. One hand shattered and his shoulder thoroughly dislocated, Chris was about as threatening as a kitten.

“Why are you-” Chris began to speak in a breathless voice but Jett cut across him, tone holding a note of displeasure though he tried to keep his words calm and comforting for Chris.

“You said you would not speak to them.” Jett felt Chris tense under his hand, good he knew what he’d done. “America and England, you told me you’d not speak to them again. I don’t appreciate lying Chris.” With Chris slumped in his hole and Jett on his knees they were just about eye level though Jett remained a little higher up. With a gentleness that contrasted his earlier grasp Jett took hold of his brother’s chin, tipping the younger male’s head up slightly so he could look in his eyes when scolding him.

But Jett stopped dead when he saw what was in Chris’s eyes.  
Chris was crying.

Taken aback by what he saw Jett could only stare frozen like a statue as he and Chris stared at one another. Something about the way Chris looked up at him made Jett uneasy.

“W-Why are you crying?” Jett asked with a shaky, strained smile. “Hey…it-it doesn’t hurt that much right? Nothing a little ice won’t fix. Come on little brother your smiling face is much nicer than this.” Even as he spoke the words Jett felt queasy, as though he’d heard similar words directed at him in the past.

“Big brother…” Those weakly murmured words from Chris caused Jett to recoil. Something inside of Jett seemed to switch back on and he released Chris, leaping back like his touch burned him. The dark gaze that had glassed over his eyes vanishing as he scrambled back from Chris as though he was deadly to be near.

 _Oh shit, oh fuck, what did I do_? Jett stared in horror at his own handy work. Not only was Chris’s hand shattered but it was also bleeding from under his nails, his fingers twisting in ways that they most certainly should not be. The shoulder that just looked just a touch wonky to Jett’s eyes before was now almost warped into the opposite direction of what it should be and the slight wince of pain on Chris’s face was – in reality – an expression of excruciating agony.

Jett’s hands covered his mouth as his stomach churned sickeningly. From where Jett sat on the ground he turned over onto his hands and knees, gagging as his body heaved, trying to remove the contents of his stomach – if only there was anything in there to throw up. Jett took a few ragged breathes to calm himself, he had to compose himself and get both of them back to Germany’s house. Chris would be fine, Germany would patch him up just like he did to him. Yeah, Germany would fix this.

With his stomach safe – if not still a little bit unsettled – Jett got back to his feet. Taking slow and shaky steps towards Chris he noticed the other had not yet tried to get away, perhaps he was unable to move now? Once again Jett knelt by his brother, careful not to look at his tear stained face for fear it would tip him over the edge and he’d toss up the acid in his stomach.

“I’m going to move you now Chris.” Jett told him in a gentle voice, hoping not to scare him any further. “I’m going to pick you up and we’re going to go get you patched up. That sounds good doesn’t it? I’ll even let you have that vegemite stuff on a sanger, so just be good and work with me.” Jett forced his arms to stop shaking as he cautiously gathered up his bleeding brother in his arms. Chris whimpered and grit his teeth in pain again when moved and Jett quickly shushed him with soft and comforting words.

“I know, I know it hurts. Don’t worry I’ll fix you up right good. I won’t do it again.” Jett promised softly. “I’m not going to do anything painful again, trust me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Jett continued to utter apologetic words as he carried his little brother, finding that he was insanely heavy but unlike before he could actually carry him now. It only made sense, he was taking back his strength as Australia as Chris lost some of his so finally they were becoming slightly more matched.

Chris listened to all of Jett’s apologises and promises but in his gut… he knew it was a lie. The strangest thing was that Jett seemed to genuinely believe his own words but Chris…he knew better. It almost made Chris want to cry knowing his big brother was delusional, he’d surely lost his mind. Despite the crippling pain that Chris was in and all the fear he felt…Chris still did not hate his brother.

Chris was simply too kind.  
Or an idiot…he’d believe either.

 

…  
...England’s place)  
…

 

Kids were cute.   
The little snot nosed brats really looked cute back then.

Sitting quietly on the bed he’d been confined to –for quite a damn long time –Arthur flicked mindlessly through the old photo albums he’d been able to find.   
Well not exactly find. He’d had to bribe the damn frog to fetch them for him, knowing that Alfred would only deny their existence. But sure enough they’d been there, tucked away in that filthy storage room that Alfred never seemed able to find the time to clean. Lazy sod.

The albums had gathered fair amounts of dust over the years but the pictures inside were left reasonably untouched by age. As Arthur waited for one of his attendants to return he amused himself by laughing at how chubby and ugly America’s face had been when he was younger. America was always such a dumb kid, wetting the bed and crying all over the place. Canada had been less of a wimp than his older brother when they were children. Arthur chuckled when he saw a particularly awful photo of little America, dressed up in his cowboy get up and trying to save the ‘damsel’ from a ferocious bear. A damsel that was his brother a bear that was stuffed, children really had the wildest imaginations.

For a while England did lose himself inside the images, finding plenty of material he could blackmail America with later but as his fingers continued to turn the pages he found that the wicked grin on his face faded. They had been such cute little brats, why did they have to grow up at all? It would have been perfect if they’d just stayed small and dumb all their lives. Well America always stayed dumb but it wasn’t as endearing as it had been when he was a kid.

They’d live in the same house.   
They’d have the same silly games.  
They’d listen to Arthur’s stories and rules.  
They’d still cry and do dumb things.  
And when they’d get scared or sad they’d still run right back to Arthur.

Sighing Arthur realised he was only depressing himself but found that he could not yet close the book. Canada and America had grown up too quickly for his liking and seeing them again in these pictures made Arthur feel both sad and nostalgic in a warm kind of way.

With another turn of the page Arthur’s single eye closed slightly as a different pain all together came on. It was a cute picture with those snot faced brats. Alfred stood with stick lofted high above his head and Canada hiding behind him while a small Jett held his own stick, making a stabbing motion for his big brother.

Arthur wondered again about Chris and Jett. Had his colony returned home to his brother? Had he really been able to talk some sense into him? Jett held no one dearer than Chris, having felt the loss of losing his brother before. Arthur liked to think that’d be enough, for all his hatred towards Arthur perhaps his love for Chris would actually serve to be more effective.

Looking back at the book Arthur noticed more pictures with the three boys appearing. Sometimes Arthur was there with them or the frog was. Their family had never exactly been perfect but it’d been nice, even if France had to hang around like he was their papa or some nonsense. Arthur caught sight of one photo in particular that made him stop. Curled up with a blanket haphazardly thrown over them all four were sleeping quietly. America, Canada and Australia all nestled up to their big brother as France took the photo. It looked like the last photo in that particular album that showed America as a child or held Jett in it. So without thinking Arthur slid it free of its case and slipped the delicate picture into his pocket. America would not miss one photo.

There was a sudden ruckus from outside his room. The sounds of doors slamming and muffled shouting. Had America come to see him again and be loud? That would actually be a relief but Arthur had a sinking suspicion that this was not going to be good news.

Sure enough no more than two minutes later America came flying through the door. Throwing the poor thing so hard against the wall it may have just moulded to it. Naturally England sat up, throwing the albums aside to hide the evidence of his nostalgia trip and in the same breath scold the hell out of Alfred.

But he stopped.

Seeing the panic in Alfred’s usually careless eyes and the mess that had become of him England’s words dried up. It was bad news, he could see it on America’s face and he already knew what had happened despite not having been told.

“Christian…?” Arthur asked while Alfred gagged, trying to breathe properly as it seemed his unfit ass had run the whole way here. He nodded rapidly while clutching the door frame for support.

“J-Jett..he…” America was able to gasp. “To Christian…”

“Calm down lad.” Arthur said firmly, trying to get Alfred to at least breathe before trying to spew exposition at him. “Slowly, one word at a time.”

And so America sat down and told Arthur what he’d heard. Arthur listened without interruption before sighing and closing his eye. His little brother must have gone completely mad. There was no other explanation. As he relayed Jett’s message for him Arthur felt a shudder run up his spine.

“Arthur.” America’s voice broke Arthur away from his thoughts. Turning to face the younger nation Arthur’s gaze hardened, knowing what he’d say next. “You know this is going to be war right?”

“We’re not going to war.” Arthur replied coldly. “We are in no state to declare war.”

“Are you seeing what’s happening?” Alfred shouted, throwing his arm out to the side. “If this continues what is going to happen to Chris and you? Are you just going to let him do whatever the hell he wants?”

“Didn’t you do the same?” Arthur knew it was low but really what was the different? Well…America hadn’t been barking mad when he made a move for independence. Alfred’s eyes darkened though he looked injured by Arthur’s words.

“I didn’t carve a hole in your face.” Arthur’s fingers touched the eye patch with a grimace. “And I didn’t threaten to take the rest of you with it! I didn’t attack my brother or go onto that damn Nazi’s side!”

“This is not the war. He’s not a Nazi and we’re not going to treat this like war. It’s a domestic dispute. It’s civil war between Chris and Jett.”

“And we sit back to do nothing?” Alfred demanded, banging his fist against the wall. “Chris asked us for help! We’re in a treaty with them!”

“The ANZUS treaty?” Arthur’s tone remained deadpanned and icy. “Do you intend to send them soldiers? Aid? Really America? _You_?” America recoiled slightly. Arthur knew it as well as Australia. America never intended to help them, the treaty was all in his favour.

“Well I…”

“No. You would not. That’s why you’re asking me. No matter how much you want to help your brothers, your country won’t move in without the other allies. Isn’t that right? Your treaty is nothing but dirt!” Arthur’s voice rose without him realising it and he was all but standing from his bed as he continued to grow more unruly.

“Australia knew it too. That his brother was using him with a treaty like a dog. That his own big brother was nothing more than a bastard intending to rope him into a trap. It’s entirely your fault that Australia hates you! It’s all your stupid bloody fault you fat bastard, all because you’re a joke of a big brother!”

“England…” Alfred’s surprised tone caught Arthur by surprise and he hesitated. “Dude…you’re crying.” Immediately Arthur pressed his hands to his face, finding the moisture was there along with the agonising pain from his missing eye. Falling back onto the bed he clutched at his face, willing the pain and tears to stop. All the while Alfred just watched, he knew England’s anger wasn’t directed at him but rather himself.

Slowly Alfred stepped towards England, seated himself down on the edge of the bed and took the other nation by the shoulder to pull him into a hug. Arthur froze and Alfred awkwardly stared off into space but neither pulled away from the uneasy embrace.

“You wanker…” Arthur muttered finally before leaning into the other nation, finding just once it felt okay to require support.

“…We won’t go to war.” Alfred agreed finally. “Not yet.”

“No, not yet.” Arthur echoed. He needed to hear bother Chris and Jett first. He wanted to hear what they had to say, he needed to hear what Germany had to say and if after that…there was still any doubt- they’d go to war. No matter what Arthur would not be releasing Jett yet, he knew it was selfish and he knew it was cruel but he’d not lose his little brother. Even if he died trying, he’d regain Australia.

“Dude you feel like a chick when I hug you.” America laughed and Arthur turned bright red, anger and embarrassment boiling over. He was going to throttle the bloody wanker!

“Why you…!”

_Ring Ring_

Before the throttling could begin the landline shrieked into life. Both Alfred and Arthur jumped, looking up at the old timey black phone with frowning faces. It was rare that people called that phone rather than their mobiles…actually the last time anyone called that phone was…

“Jack!” Arthur realised. Jett always called him on that phone as they never got close enough to swap mobiles. The last conversation to be had on that phone was when they’d argued over the treaty with Germany.

Without further hesitation Arthur pushed away from Alfred, hands fumbling with the phone as he rapidly pressed it to his ear –to hell with composure!

“Yes? Hello?” No response.

“Jac- Jett I know this you. Please say something. _Anything_.” Still nothing.

“Jett, please little brother I’m-“

“Arthur, please help me!” Arthur just…stopped.

That was Jett’s voice on the other end. That was his stubborn and apparently crazy little brother on the other end crying out for him. Not Chris but Jett. Arthur didn’t know what to say, what to do.   
In his silence Jett kept talking.

“Please Arthur! I’m sorry, I made a mistake. Please, please help me. Big brother!” There was a pause and what sounded like a wall being kicked in. “Save me!”

“Found you.” There was a loud crash, followed by sounds that Arthur couldn’t name and the sound of some type of grunting.

“Jett? Jett! Answer me!” Arthur was gripping the phone so tight his fingers had turned white but it was too late- the line was dead.

“Arthur…?” Alfred stood by his side, no doubt confused by the shouting he’d heard.

Arthur felt dead on his feet, the phone hanging from his hand limply as he stared into space, brain desperation working to make sense of what he’d heard

“That…That was Jett.” He muttered finally, his voice sounding far away to his own ears. “Asking for help…”

“What?” Alfred was understandably shocked.

“But someone stopped the call…” Arthur’s fist clenched and his teeth ground together as he thought about what he’d heard. Perhaps it was a trap, maybe Jett intended to finish him off with this but Arthur didn’t believe that. All he knew was his brother was in trouble and this was exactly the type of conviction he needed to make the next step.

“Looks like it is war then.”

 

...  
…  
…  
  


Civil-War - End


	6. Obedience

…  
…(Back at Germany’s place)  
…

“Italy!” Germany’s familiar roar echoed through the house followed almost immediately by the Italian’s terrified scream while Japan quietly sipped on his green tea by the living room table. It was like clockwork. Italy went flying down the house’s halls, crying apologises as Germany raced after him, even when they were simply spending time with one another somehow things always turned out this way. Prussia was the only one not in the usual loop of things. While his baby brother exerted himself chasing after an retreating Italian the albino spent his time carelessly flicking through the channels on the television.  
Japan had been sitting quietly on a pillow by the table across from a lazy Prussia, taking notice of his effort to be interested in the media on the screen and failing.

“Prussia-san?” Kiku eventually spoke up, believing he’d flicked through the same channels three times over by now. “Is something the matter?”

“Hm?” Prussia twisted his body around so he could face the Japanese man. Red eyes blinking a few times in surprise. “Nein, I am fine. Why’d you ask?”

“Usually Prussia-san does not go past the show…a…Jackass more than twice.” Kiku answered nervously.

“Oh, just not feeling it today I guess.” Gilbert replied bluntly before leaving the channel he’d flicked to last on so that Kiku wouldn’t worry. However that channel happened to be news so Kiku only became more concerned.

 _Prussia-san has not been himself recently. Germany-san too_. Japan kept his thoughts to himself but he was still concerned. Japan watched at Prussia checked his phone again and the observant nation saw not only was he checking it excessively he was also carrying around a second phone. Japan guessed it wasn’t his but never did ask who it belonged to.

Japan continued to study Prussia’s face as the lost nation seemed very invested in his phone. A strangely serious expression lingering on his face before the phone buzzed into life.

“Ah, excuse me.” Prussia stood while answering the phone. “Dude, what took you so long?”

 _Dude_? Japan stared after Prussia as he vanished from the room. The quiet nation didn’t like to think that something secretive was happening behind his back but things had been becoming increasingly abnormal. First Germany insists that he make a treaty with Australia and then asks he and Feli to befriend the wild nation to help him settle in and now Prussia spent more time brooding than he did shouting awesome.

Not sure what to make of the situation Japan decided the best course of action was to simply sit back and wait for things to unfold. No matter how the situation unfolded Japan was determined not to become involved, he’d quietly watch from the sidelines and perhaps offer advice to allies but if in some way these oddities amounted to a true scuffle Japan was going to stay out of it until he had a clear picture of the situation.

A rapid pounding at the door drew Japan’s focus away from his peaceful silence –ignoring Germany and Italy- and tea drinking. Lowering his cup slightly Japan glanced up towards the sounds of Germany and Italy knowing that they would not have heard that knocking at the door. However it was not his residence, it would not be right to answer the door.

“Prussia-san?” Kiku called, hoping the elder brother would still be around to answer the door. Thankfully the albino nation appeared and Japan wondered if it was just his imagination that he seemed paler than usual. Prussia looked as though he’d seen a ghost.

“Burder?” Germany’s voice came from somewhere upstairs. “Did I hear someone at the door?”

“Ja, I got it!” Prussia shouted back before walking to the front door to answer it. Kiku watched from the living room as Prussia grabbed the handled and seemed to shudder as he took a deep calming breath to compose himself. Once calmed he put in a familiar grin and threw the door open.

“Welcome to the awesome one’s plac-“ Kiku had never seen Gilbert’s face change faster. Losing the welcoming smile his expression twisted into one of shock and horror. Japan –understandable concerned- delicately set his cup down and from the pillow.

“Prussia-san? Who is it?” Kiku asked as he walked towards the front door but was given no answer. Prussia’s face was frozen in that wide eyed expression, lips slightly parted as he seemed to search for his words. When Kiku came to stand next to Prussia he saw just what had him caught in that position.

Standing at the front door, panting heavily with his brother hanging limply over his shoulder was Jett. The young nation looked ragged enough as though he’d had to run a great distance with his brother’s weight. Jett looked like a mess but it was Chris that drew Japan’s gaze the most. Jett was a mess but Chris was a disaster.

Blood dripped from his hand onto the ground, he had a swelling mark on his forehead and what appeared to be his arm, had been so horribly twisted that Japan wasn’t immediately sure it indeed was his arm. Chris did not seem to be conscious and that may have been a gift, if he had been conscious Japan was sure he’d be screaming. Prussia did not seem able to draw his gaze away from the two either, something like guilt dancing behind his red hues.

“What is it?” Germany’s voice appeared behind them and Japan immediately stepped to the side, allowing Germany easy access to the situation. There was a brief hesitation on Germany’s part when he saw Jett and Chris but unlike his big brother Germany was able to keep a cool head. The second that Germany came into view Jett’s head lifted and an agonised expression crossed his face, tears beginning to form in his green eyes.

“Germany…” Japan had never heard the rough nation sound so small and desperate. “I…I didn’t mean to. Please Germany…help my little brother.” Jett pleaded weakly. As Jett began to cry Germany remained stoic and level headed. Slowly he made his way over to Jett and with a surprising amount of gentleness he put an arm around Australia and led him inside, past both Japan and Prussia.

The two were left to stare blankly after the silent German and softly crying Australian. Japan hadn’t a clue what had happened but from the way Prussia stared after his little brother and Jett he was willing to bet that it was best he did not know. Prussia’s expression finally changed, a furious look coming over the male as he stalked away from the scene, whipping out his phone again and madly tapping in a number.

Japan didn’t like to make assumptions but he was pretty sure Prussia knew what had happened before Jett had ever knocked at the door.

 

...  
...  
…

 

It had been a while now.   
Jett had not moved since he and Chris arrived back at Germany’s house. Sitting hunched over against the wall outside of the room that Chris was being treated in, Jett’s back had began to ach and his legs had long since gone numb. Still he dared not to move an inch, if he was to leave the spot he had selected he might miss something.  
Jett had to be there for when Germany left Chris’s room and told him how his brother was.  
Jett had to be right there to hear that Chris was alright.

In his head Jett played it over and over again. What had happened to him back at the house? He’d promised himself a thousand times over that he’d never truly lay a hand on his brother again but back there….what excuse did he have for that?

Jett’s fingers clasped together tightly as they rest against his forehead and Jett ground his teeth relentlessly, he’d not felt such guilt in many years. He hadn’t meant to hurt Chris that badly, he hadn’t meant to hurt him at all. It just happened. Chris made him angry, he couldn’t help it. If Chris had just done as he was told it wouldn’t have happened.  
If England and America hadn’t been in the picture it never would have happened.

Over and over Jett played the blame game in his head. Only fuelling his slowly approaching explosion but it was not hate that made Jett want to jump up and start punching holes in the walls. No, it was the crippling and unavoidable knowledge that it _wasn’t_ anyone else’s fault. It was all _his_ fault.

So the game went on. Once he finished cursing Chris and Arthur he came to the conclusion that it was his mistake and tried to justify his actions again. Nothing seemed to justify what he’d done.

“Yo.” Jett lifted his head slightly from his arms at the sound of a familiar voice. Familiar but not the German he wanted to hear.

Prussia stood by his side, holding two beer cans as he looked down at Jett with those frowning red eyes. Wordlessly he held a can out to Jett who –after a short pause- took it gratefully. Taking that as a sign he wasn’t going to get chased off Prussia dropped himself down onto the floor next to Jett, taking a gulp of beer as he did.

“How’s he doing?” Prussia asked, staring off into space while Jett stared at the can blankly.

“I don’t know.” With that deadpanned response Prussia looked over at Jett with a look of apprehension. Jett knew that the Prussian would start digging if he gave him nothing else. “Germany is still in there with him. I don’t know anything till he comes out with a report.”

Stretching up to peer at the door past Jett Prussia’s frown turned into a scorching glare before turning back to Jett. “Look.” He started with a heavy sigh. “I’m not going to say anything about what happened with you and your bruder. Shit happens, I get that. But you should leave.”

Jett looked away from the can to Gilbert, surprised he was told outright to go. Prussia was making a somewhat painful face as he stared at the ceiling vacantly.

“Mein bruder and you…I don’t like it.”

“We’re not exactly about to start slow dancing or anything Gil.” Jett replied with a small smirk, thinking perhaps Gilbert was joking. But he did not laugh, or even smile and Jett’s own smirk faded. “Alright Mr Awesome, you got my attention. What are you yapping on about?”

“Go back to England.” Jett’s expression hardened. “I mean it.” Gilbert added harshly when he saw the refusal growing in Jett’s eyes. “Ever since you and mein bruder began to talk things got all messed up. Go back home. Make up with your own bruder and stop this before it gets serious.”

Jett wanted to outright refuse, he almost did but the memory of Chris’s shattered hand and tear filled face made him hesitate. Perhaps Gilbert was right, things had already gotten out of hand. Attacking Arthur, he could let that pass but hurting Chris…? It was too far and Jett was starting to realise just how fucked up it was getting.

“You…may be right.” Jett muttered finally and a relieved smile flashed onto Gilbert’s face. “I think…maybe it’s time to go home.”

“Hey!” Prussia’s usual cheerful tone returned. “What’s with that sorry ass face? It’ll be great, we can drink together again and you can always have play dates with Feli. It’s fine to just have awesome friends like me right? Kesess!” Jett smiled faintly. Gilbert was such a fucking pain in the ass. But he brought the grog and surprisingly some common sense with him so Jett would give him a free pass.

“Once Germany gives me the okay on Chris we’ll go back home.” Jett smiled nervously. He wasn’t sure what Chris would say to him but his little brother was fairly forgiving, give it time and even this could be forgotten. “I got to _fix_ the house first.” He added, remembering the hole he found Chris in. Just when had their room gotten a massive fuck-off hole in it!? Bloody Chris, always breaking their stuff.

“Prussia! Australia!” The two looked up to see Italy running down the hall- arms flailing about wildly. At first Jett thought something was wrong but he saw the goofy ass grin on Italy’s face as he got nearer, arms still flapping as he stopped in front of the two sitting nations.

“Mr New Zealand is here!” Jett was on his feet in seconds, rushing past Italy and Prussia and towards the front door.

Zea was here? Had he heard about Chris? No, he couldn’t know what happened. Zea must have been here to see him, that had to be it. Was Zea going to tell him off in that quiet voice of his? Jett was almost hoping he would. As Jett essentially threw himself down the steps he caught sight of Zea standing in the doorway with Japan, the two sharing a quiet conversation. Oh they weren’t whispering, they were just both very quietly spoken people.

“Zea!” Jett’s face split into a great big smile. He felt relieved seeing his little brother come to see him, thinking that now was the best time to tell Zea his choice to return home. Toby turned to look up the stairs at his big brother, the expression on his face one of disbelief. It was as though he’d not expected a warm greeting.   
Jet bounded down the stairs all but lunged into Zea’s arms, crushing the poor nation under his bear hug.

New Zealand was stunned into silence. He’d absolutely not been expecting this, from all he’d heard Jett had lost his mind and behaved coldly towards his brother but instead of the dark big brother he’d expected Zea got a hug. Jett almost seemed desperate for the contact though he’d made a point of making a huge personal space bubble in the past.

“Your timing is perfect Zea.” Jett exclaimed, holding his brother at arm’s length –still grinning brightly. “We’re going to head home just as soon as Chris is ready. You don’t have to say anything at all.” Zea was beginning to feel his head swim, he’d geared up for a massive argument with his big brother over the whole ordeal but instead Jett was already on his side.

“You’re willing to come home?” Zea asked in bewilderment. “Just like that? You’re coming back with me?”

“Of course, we can go soon. Just a little wait until Chris is ready.” Jett wished he’d not added that part.

“Brother…?” Zea tried to get his head straight before speaking. “Is Chris okay?” Jett’s smile faded at that question and Zea’s own face darkened somewhat. New Zealand had been there, he had _seen_ the things that transpired between Australia and the Native nation so he’d been worried about Chris from step one. Looks like he should have worried more.

“Is he alive?” Jett seemed mortified by the question, stepping back from Zea as if that simple question had burned him. However Toby didn’t retract the question and instead just continued to stare at his brother.

“O-Of course he’s alive!” Jett snapped finally. “I wouldn’t…I mean it was an accident…” Sharply shaking his head Jett glared at Zea. “I wouldn’t kill my brother.”

“What about England?” Jett’s expression turned into one of uncertainty. He’d prepared to go home and decided this campaign was insane but he didn’t know how he felt about his big brother just yet. He had tried to kill him after all.  
_But I choked._

“He’s still breathing isn’t he?” Muttering his answer Jett glanced down to the ground but he could see the realisation on Toby’s face even though he tried not to.

“England said you had the shot.” Jett flinched at those quietly accusing words. “And didn’t take it. Did you…?”

“The gun failed!” Jett snarled back. “That’s all.” He and New Zealand stood in the hall staring at one another for a good minute and Japan kept quiet through the whole time. He knew when to stay out of brother’s quarrels. However the sound of heavy footsteps brought the Japanese man’s attention to the stairs and he did speak up, glad for something to break the tense staring contest between the two Oceanic countries.

“Ah, Germany-san.” Japan smiled in relief. “We have a guest.” He continued gesturing to New Zealand.

Jett had his back to Germany but noticed how his little brother’s gaze moved towards the other nation and became a scowl, Jett had never seen so much silent hatred on his kind little brother’s face. But when he faced Germany little Zea looked ready to start ripping throats –bloody Kiwi was scary.  
Germany stopped on the bottom step, adjusting his uniform silently while dusting imaginary dust from his shoulders. When he saw the look that Zea directed at him Germany merely looked openly surprised though Toby saw it only as a mocking gesture, Germany knew damn well why he hated him.  
Behind him Italy was bouncing about joyfully but seeing the scary atmosphere he decided it was time to flee.

“Come on Kiku!” Feli said happily, latching onto Japan’s arm. “Let’s go play soccer. Soccer, soccer!” Japan looked like he wanted to object but between soccer and staying in this tense situation Japan took the better choice of the two and left with Italy. Leaving Germany and the two younger nations.

“I didn’t realise you’d brought New Zealand home with you as well Jett.” Germany spoke calmly from where he stood before adding offhandedly. “Are you going to take over New Zealand?” Toby stiffened where he stood, teeth grit as Germany intentionally poked at a sore spot.

“What? No, no, of course not.” Jett was genuinely surprised. He’d not thought of taking his little brother back since they had split, there was no ill feelings between either of them and neither had any intention of becoming one with the other. Though Australia did like to joke that they were still part of them and with how close they lived it would seem that way at times.

“Then what are you to do with him?” Germany took the last step off of the stairs and came to stand beside a confused Jett. “He is here as your enemy after all.”

“Shut your bloody mouth!” Toby snapped in an uncharacteristic display of anger.

“He’s here on England’s behalf.” Germany ignored Zea and answered Jett smoothly. “Most likely to kill you or take you back to England.” Jett’s blood ran cold when he saw the way Toby glared at the ground, guilt in his eyes.

“Toby….you seriously came here for that guy?” Jett felt betrayed and he could feel himself slipping back into that out of hand state.

 _No!_  
Jett jerked on the mental chain and pulled himself back.  
_I decided to go home. Zea just came here to get us, there’s no reason to be angry. No reason at all._

“T-That’s alright mate.” Jett smiled shakily, still finding it hard to swallow that. Both Zea and Germany looked at him in surprise when he kept his cool. But while Toby smiled, Germany scowled.

“We…were going to head home anyway.” Jett murmured softly before looking over to Germany with that nervous smile. “So once Chris is patched up we’ll be going. It’s about time I get back to the shack.” Jett swore he saw Germany’s eyes flash dangerously but not a moment later the German sighed and rubbed the back of his head.

“Ja. I guess it had to happen sometime soon.” Germany smiled faintly to Jett. “I’ll take care of everything, you should go and get your things if you intend to leave.”

Jett smiled gratefully when Germany made things ten times easier. Jett was still feeling a bit tentative about leaving and losing all he’d risked to gain but at the same time he could tell that if he continued there would be far more to lose. It was best to stop now.

“Right, I won’t take long at all. Just wait here a tick Zea!” Jett turned and dashed back up the stairs, leaving Germany and New Zealand standing in the hallway together. Once Jett was out of sight Germany turned to New Zealand with a cold smile.

“Now then.” He spoke in a thickly accented purr. “Onto business.”

Upstairs Jett was busily hauling his things messily back into the bags that Germany had brought for him. He didn’t bother folding or anything that fancy, just stuff it in until it fits. While he worked Jett noticed the little spider friend he’d let loose in Germany’s house scuttling over the floor towards him.

“Hey there little mate.” Jett greeted with a warm smile. He’d not realised how relieved he was until he was finally going home. He’s known all along in the back of his head that this was truly messed up. “I guess you should stay here, you’d get squished it I tried to take you home with me and I got plenty of other creepy crawlies waiting for me back there.”

As he chatted with the arachnid a soft tinkling drew his attention to the bag he was packing. Sitting, half smothered in his clothes was the little fairy girl.

“Oh, so you did stick around.” Jett grinned viciously. “What don’t like my dirty socks?” The fairy made a gagging motion as she tried to free herself from Jett’s clothing pile. “Well we’re heading home, it’ll be good to get back to the bush won’t it?” For once he and the little fairy agreed wholeheartedly.

“What are you doing here anyway? I didn’t see you since we played hide and seek. What, got something important to tell me or something?” The fairy seemed to remember why she’d appeared again and leapt from the clothes pile, waving her arms about almost as wildly as Italy while making angry tinkling noises at him.

“I can’t speak tinkles.” Jet said bluntly and the fairy let out a shout of annoyance as she pointed at his hand angrily, wanting a canvas to draw on to try and get her message across. Jett held his palm out to her and watched at her glittering dust covered his palm in wild patterns. From what he could make out one was a wonky sheep and something like a blanket over it.

“Um….I’m not getting it.” The fairy stomped on his hand angrily and began to write letters this time. It took her a while but she was literate enough for Jett to make it out.

“Cage?” Jett didn’t understand why she’d write that but he’d gotten it right because she nodded furiously at him. “Alright what about cage?” Jett tried, finding himself getting annoyed with the fairy’s antics. Rubbing out the last word she got to work on another and this time Jett understood very clearly.

“Exit.”  She’s told him the same this when playing hide and seek in the past and Jett still struggled to understand why she was so hell bent on that word. Looking down she seemed to think hard, something troubling her but all of a sudden she leapt up in the air shouting something excitedly, it looked like she’d just figured something out. Rapidly she dusted away the word exit and wrote over it in much bigger letters.

“Escape.” Jett murmured the word with a frown. It was eerie the way that word looked on his palm, it was creepy how adamant she was in the fact he should run away. “Hold on a tick. So you’re telling me this whole time you couldn’t spell ‘Escape’ so you just wrote ‘Exit’?” Jett asked, smirking in amusement as the fairy’s face glowed bright red. “I guess English isn’t your strong suit eh?”

Furiously she bit into his palm again but Jett was fairly used to her bites and his hands were tough so he merely laughed with a small wince. “I’m just teasing. Besides, I don’t understand why you’re so worried. Come on you can play charades with me all day once we get home. We can go pick up Chris now.”

Jett stood from his packing, ignoring the flailing of the fairy’s arms as she tried to shout at him in her tinkling voice. Jett was fairly good at ignoring her. She shouted and tugged at him the whole way to the room Chris had been treated in. For the most part Jett just waved her off as an annoyance, unable to grasp why she was so desperate to get his attention.

“Seriously quit it.” He complained as they reached Chris’s room. “I said knock it off!” Finally snapping he pushed the fairy away from him. “Look we can play later just as soon as I get Chris.” Jett told her while opening the door, smiling even as he did, just looking forward to seeing his little brother.

But…where was Chris?

Jett stopped, hand still on the handle of the door as he stared into an empty room. There was no Chris and even though Jett had been so sure this was the place he’d sat for ages waiting for him.

“Where is he…?” Jett muttered and even the fairy was silent, it took him a while to notice that’s because she was gone.

“Jett.” He jumped at the sound of his name being said in that accented voice, grabbing at his chest as he worked on stopping the heart attack his body was trying to have. Germany stood behind him, arms crossed with a frown on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I…Well I came to get Chris but…I must have gotten the wrong room.” Jett explained, embarrassed and confused about the current situation. He laughed at the absurdity of his poor memory and looked down while rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“I see. Nein, this is the right room.” Germany explained casually. “I had Australia moved to the cells.” Jett froze. Had he heard that right? Cells?

“What…do you mean by that?” Jett asked slowly turning his head up to face Germany again. “Cells? I must have heard that wrong.”

“Nein. You heard just fine. He and New Zealand are quite comfortable I assure you. I couldn’t have them running around my home when they are enemies.” Jett couldn’t believe what was coming out of Germany’s mouth. This couldn’t be right, he must be missing something here. Germany couldn’t mean what he said.

“Germany, they’re not enemies. I mean…I’m going home with them and we’ve going to stop this nonsense. I never wanted a civil war. I-It’s alright you can let them ou-“

“Nein.” Jett was silenced by the force of Germany’s voice and unknowingly took a step back and Germany followed that step. “I knew that it had to happen eventually. I didn’t realise it would be today…but it’s been long enough.” Another step forward.

“Germany I’ve changed my mind.” Jett said, trying to keep his tone firm. “I can’t hurt my brothers any further than this. Chris will fight me, Zea will fight me…there’s no point to continuing this. I won’t hurt either of them.”

“So you intend to stop existing again?” Germany’s calm words were like a knife to Jett. “You won’t be Australia, you won’t be Jett, you won’t be anything and you’ll fade away. England won’t mourn you, Chris won’t remember you before long and eventually you won’t be anything more than a mention in some text book.” Germany continued towards Jett but the Australian found himself unable to move an inch. With Germany standing in in front of him Jett found himself staring blankly at his uniform, not even looking to face him.

“Is that what you want Australia?” Germany asked coldly.

“I won’t.” Jett’s words were meek and pathetic when compared to Germany’s smooth words. “I won’t hurt my brother again.”

“Jett.” Germany sighed as though he felt let down by that answer. “I had thought you’d be less troublesome.” Suddenly Jett was jerked forward by his shirt, Germany having a fist full of the material. “But I won’t back down now, not when I’ve done this much. Even if I have to force you to see, you _will_ see things my way.”

What was happening? Jett was trying to catch up to the situation. Germany had been so kind and gentle before this but suddenly it seemed as though he was an entirely different person. Jett wanted to believe it was a joke but in all the time he’d known Germany he didn’t strike him as the joking kind.

“Let go.” Jett growled, trying to push Germany away from himself only to find it was something akin to pushing against a stone wall.

“Don’t you understand?” Germany chuckled darkly, the sound resinating from within his chest. “I’ve taken the time to set this up, I’ve worked hard to make things just how I wanted them and a small rebellious outburst from you isn’t going to ruin it.” Jett couldn’t take it anymore, he tried to push Germany away again but was met with similar results. He was starting to panic, these works reminding him far too much of Arthur in the old days.  
Germany’s grip tightened and he was pulled closer, space almost non-existent between them now and Jett was unable to stifle his soft plea.

“Help me…” It was a tiny little whisper but it was heard. Jett saw a spark of flight shoot past his face, slamming right between Germany’s eyes and no doubt blinding him for a moment. Cursing in Germany the male released Jett and stumbled back, grabbing at the thing on his face. When freed Jett stumbled back, stunned into dumbly standing motionless for far too long. A dark figure stood by the door and Jett recognised it as the Mimi that had been following him around before. The shadow like creature raised it arms and waved to Jett, urging him to follow, it was all he needed to get his legs moving again.

Rushing past the fallen Germany that was dealing with a nasty little fairy while being unable to see what assaulted him, Jett followed the Mimi down the hall. He never saw its legs move but the creature was incredibly fast as it led Jett through the house. Jett wanted to try windows and doors but he had a sinking sense that they were already all locked. Germany took no chances and Jett knew he was very good at planning things out. He’d not offer up such an easy escape. And even if Jett could escape he’d not leave without Chris and Toby. All he had right then was the Mimi to follow and hope it was trying to help him.

As Jett ran down the halls following after the Mimi he could hear Germany’s voice shouting something in German at him. If the little feral fairy had slowed him, it was only a brief distraction. The Mimi took a sharp turn into a familiar room and Jett hesitated in the doorway. This was Germany’s room. Somehow it felt both really ballsy and really dumb to hide in the room of the man trying to find him. The Mimi didn’t like his hesitation and gestured again for him to come in.

Gradually Jett took a step into the room, feeling as though he was crossing into forbidden and dangerous territory but he knew that if Germany caught him trespassing would be the least of his worries. The Mimi was standing by Germany’s desk, looking at him with some kind of expectation. Jett didn’t understand what the creature wanted him to do, all he saw was a blank space and wall. Did it expect him to just sit there until Germany found him? The Mimi began pointing at the wall and Jett thought back to when it had pointed out the attic to him before. A hidden hiding place.

Jett’s hopes lifted as he crouched by the wall, hoping maybe the floor would open up and he’d try his hand at hiding in a hole like Chris but he found no trap door. The Mimi shook it’s head and pointed at the floor, its elongated shadowy finger losing its form as it pressed against the dry wall. Uncertainly Jett pressed his hand against the wall and at first was let down as he felt nothing, but then he tapped Jett realised that it sounded hollow.

“A secret door? Seriously? Why would Germany even…?” Jett began to complain about the logic of the situation but the sound of doors slamming made him jump back to the point. No time to question a gift. Horse’s mouth or some shit? Yeah, that saying. Jett had to run his hands over the wall a few more times before he found a small dent that must have been the latch to open the door. When he pressed it the wall just…fell in. Swinging with a rusty screech the secret door opened for Jett and without even looking to see what he was crawling into Jett dove in. Turning in the small space to look out the door and only source of light he saw the Mimi reach in and grab the door with its ghostly hands. Making a ‘Shhh’ gesture with one finger and Mimi slowly swung the door shut and Jett was left in darkness.

It was pitch black in the small space and while Jett wasn’t keen on exploring he did twist and turn to see how much space he had, hardly any. It was like being trapped within a box and Jett was feeling a little bit nauseous. He was blind and lost in a tight space and after a while he couldn’t tell where the door was or how to open it again. Now his biggest fear was that he’d die in this hiding place. So his options were fairly bleak, be caught by Germany or die in a hole.   
Just bloody brilliant.

Jett took a few deep and calming breathes to stop his over active imagination from making this worse than it was. He just had to wait for Germany to leave then he could get out…if he could find the door. Oh god he was going to die in here! Jett started to panic again. Hands searching the walls and finding only what he could guess was dust and cobwebs. On the floor he felt smooth little sticks, yes sticks…they were sticks…just sticks. He kept saying that to himself but his mind screamed ‘ _bones_!’

His breathing rapidly became erratic and he broke out in a cold sweat. It seemed that he was going to lose the hiding place to fear and then something dropped from his pocket in his frantic scrambling. The sound of metal hitting the ground made Jett pause and stop his desperate thrashing. After a small hesitation Jett reached down towards the sound and his hand touched something cold and small. Jett’s fingers had brushed against his necklace. All of Jett’s fear just sapped away as he tenderly picked up the chain of pendants.

Holding the item close to his chest Jett’s breathing gradually returned to normal and his mind began to clear up. the ragged breathes became quieter as Jett focused on the feeling of the necklace between his fingers. It was alright, no one else was here to see him take comfort in his most precious possession. When Jett opened his eyes again there was a gentle bubble of light giving him his vision back as the little bubble looked at him with worried eyes.

“Ha…guess I owe you again.” Jett’s voice was barely a whisper, cracking slightly as he spoke to the little fairy girl. She didn’t shout at him of bite his hand again but instead hovered by his clasped hands, looking at the necklace he clung to. It was alright, her tinkles wouldn’t tell anyone about his weakness.

“See this? I kept it after all that.” Jett opened his hands to show the fairy the three pendants on the necklace. Oddly enough he’d never thrown the thing away or even removed Arthur’s pendant. He’d tried to. Oh how he had tried.  
Many nights he held the necklace over with bin or thought about getting Arthur’s off but he’d never been able to follow through with the idea.  
“Such a bloody sap.” Jett curled around the necklace while whispering the words with a shaky smile.

“I’m an idiot…what was I thinking? All of this is so messed up.” Jett told the fairy who stayed strangely quiet as she watched the nation begin to break down. “Attacking Chris? Hell even attacking England, I wasn’t thinking…no one is stupid enough to risk starting war over those petty reasons.” Jett’s knuckles turned white as he held what was essentially his heart to him.  “I-I’ll apologise properly to Chris and Zea. I’ll even go to England, I’ll let him decide what to do with me.”

The note of resignation in Jett’s tone made the fairy tinkling softly in question. Jett laughed past tears and said simply.

“It’s about time that I vanished for good. I don’t mind being forgotten, I was a bloody useless nation. Once I see my brothers once more….I’ll go to England and he’ll have me punished. All that will be left of me is what I leave with Chris.” The fairy tinkled, shaking her head back and forth violently. “Heh…what’s this? Don’t want me vanishing little fairy?” Jett murmured, gently tapping her head with his index finger. “Then remember me okay…? Even if it’s only a fairy that remembers my name I’ll be glad.”

A loud crash shut Jett up as he remembered very clearly the reason he was hiding in this little crawl space. Jett held his necklace close with one hand and with the other cupped his fairy friend. Germany was closer now and he sounded furious just guessing by the noise coming from outside his hiding place. Jett wondered if this gripping terror was what Chris had felt when he was searching for him.

“Australia.” Came Germany’s angry growl followed by another door being slammed open. “I did not say we could play hide and seek again.” Something shattered and Jett flinched but kept his mouth firmly shut. It sounded like Germany was trying to egg a response out of him.

“Don’t give me away this time, ay?” Jett whispered to the fairy who nodded once, apparently taking this quite seriously. Jett was pretty sure that the fairy and Mimi had helped in playing hide and seek just for this reason, he wished that he’d taken her advice to escape sooner. Well if she’d made it clearer that would have helped a shit load.

“Jett.” Germany’s voice was closer but still muffled by the walls. “Come out now and I’ll rethink this.” Jett knew he was tempting him out, just like when playing hide and seek. Only if Germany caught him this time he had a feeling that a bite on the neck would be a light punishment. In fact when he thought about Germany’s words he had a fairly good idea of what he’d do.

“Nothing?” Germany asked when his offer received nothing and Jett could imagine the anger on his face. “Jett come out right now. Come out this gott damned minute! I will find you in my own house and I will have you!”

“Bruder?” Jett perked up at the sound of a much more comforting voice –Gilbert! Oh the beautiful bastard. “What are you doing, breaking the house?” Gilbert sounded already fairly defensive and suspicious, he probably knew exactly what was happening.

“Bruder.” Germany sounded relieved. “Help me find Australia.”

“Why?” Prussia asked immediately.

“He’s hiding. Apparently hide and seek is his favourite game.” Germany explained smoothly. “Help me find him.”

“Nein.”

“What?” Germany asked darkly, not pleased with that answer.

“I said, nein. I will not help you bruder.” Prussia’s voice was stiff but growing closer along with the sound of rapid footsteps. Suddenly their voices were crystal clear, as though they were standing….right there –outside the door.  
Jett tensed as he listened to the two brothers.

“Why not?” Germany asked, is voice growing closer as he followed his brother into the room. “Well? Why not?”

“Because you’re not right!” Gilbert snapped. “You’re not thinking straight, you’re warped, deranged. This is not right and I know exactly what you plan to do. I won’t allow it!”

“You won’t allow it?” Germany repeated, voice becoming soft and dripping with venom. “Who are you to stop me from doing anything bruder?”

“Just that! I am your older bruder, I won’t let mein own flesh and blood go this wrong. Not again, not a second time. Did you learn nothing from that experience?” Gilbert sounded the closest to Jett and he had to work hard to remain silent.

“So that’s why you’ve been trying to get in my way every single step. Australia is mein! I won’t let you, even mein big bruder, get in the way of that.”

“He’s not your bruder!” Prussia snarled back and a loud slam followed that. It sounded like Prussia had just been slammed up against the wall and Jett almost yelped.   
After that there was a quieter sound, a soft clattering of something much smaller hitting the ground.

“Even if you claim his vital regions he won’t be your little bruder.” Gilbert’s words came out as a stained growl, he sounded like something was cutting off his air. All Jett could think was …vital regions?

“I will not let you get in the way bruder.” Germany repeated coldly and what followed was a short but violent scuffle before a loud thud ended the physical argument and the sound of something being dragged across the floor was all that was left. A door closed and Jett was able to breathe again. On his shoulder the fairy began pointing. He frowned when he realised that she wanted him to leave the safety of the secret crawl space. Jett would have said no but she’d done nothing but save him in the past, trust was a given by this point.

Cautiously Jett found the door and gave a slight shove, sliding it open just a touch to see if he was really alone in the room or not. He was alone and felt safe enough to push the door open a bit more. His fairy leapt from his shoulder and flew out of the space and to the floor where she sat on…a phone? Jett realised the clattering sound was a phone falling to the ground. More importantly it was his phone.

“Did Prussia drop this?” He asked and the fairy nodded with a great big smile. If Gil had done it on purpose or not Jett couldn’t be sure and he was caught between being angry that Gilbert had his phone and wanting to kiss the arrogant bastard. Jett was so overcome with relief that it took him a while to realise the obvious problem with this. He had a phone –great. He had no one to call –shit.

Zea and Chris were both here and Prussia had been dragged off somewhere by Germany Jett couldn’t think of anyone else to save him. If it had been someone else Jett would have called Germany for help but for obvious reasons that didn’t work here.  
As a result Jett was left staring blankly at the phone he’d thought would save him. His fairy friend looked up at him in confusion as though she couldn’t understand why he wasn’t calling for help. He had no one to help him…well…he could always call….

“No I can’t.” Jett muttered shaking his head back and forth a few times at the mere thought of calling that guy. “I mean…it’d do no good. He wouldn’t help at all…It’s pointless to call him.” Jett looked at the fairy who gave him a look that screamed ‘You idiot, what else can you do?’   
Alright so the bitchy fairy had a point….but England would never help him.

Just as Jett’s shaky hands started to type in the number he caught the sound of footsteps heading towards him. The fairy girl heard it too and shouted a tinkling warning at Jett to hide. Panicked Jett dove back for the crawl space, hastily squeezing himself back inside and shutting the door. The door to the small space closed just as the door to the room opened back up. Terrified Jett scooted to the back of the space and began madly putting in the number for England’s place.

“Jett?” Germany sounded uncertain and Jett head him closing the door softly. “You’re in here aren’t you.” He sounded pretty damn sure of that!

“But where did you hide?” Jett realised with a sinking sense of dread that Germany was playing with him and he was about to be dead.   
Germany must have seen the door shut to the crawl space when coming in…oh god he knew. Feeling like a trapped child Jett felt tears starting to spring into his eyes, he was not going to start bawling like an ankle biter! He was just a little bit _fucking_ terrified.

Pressing the phone to his ear roughly Jett listened to it ring out… _once…twice_.

He heard a steps coming closer to the crawl space…. _one….two…_

Someone picked up and Jett’s head jerked up, banging against the stop of the box he hid in. It took all his effort not to start spitting and cursing in pain but the sound of a familiar voice on the other end took his attention away from that thoughtless movement.

 “Yes? Hello?” Jett’s voice got caught in his throat. Both regretting calling England and being too terrified to speak louder than a whisper. He shouldn’t have called England and now he was left speechless on his end.

“Jac- Jett I know this you. Please say something. _Anything_.” England pleaded on the other end and Jett’s eyes went wide. England knew it was him…England whom he had maimed was so desperately asking for a response.   
Jett’s tears fell. There was no stopping them.

“Jett, please little brother I’m-“

_Bang!_

Jett leapt out of his skin at the sound of a boot colliding with the wall. Germany was taunting him and Jett’s mind went blank with terror. He screamed.

“Arthur, please help me!” Jett shouted into the phone as his tears ran freely. He felt like a child again crying out for his big brother to come and save him. At first there was no reply and Jett was afraid that England was no longer on the other end.

“Please Arthur! I’m sorry, I made a mistake. Please, please help me. Big brother!” As he said the words another bang sounded on the wall and the door flung in, revealing Germany’s raised boot and Jett let out once last plea.  
“Save me!”

“Found you.” Jett’s heart stopped.

A large gloved hand thrust into the crawlspace, grabbing hold of Jett’s ankle and latching on. Jett tried to kick him off, squirming and thrashing about wildly to try and free himself but Germany’s grip was like steel. No matter how he tried Germany was able to pull him free –kicking and screaming. The very second that the phone came out into the open Germany snatched it away from Jett and hurled it across the room, if it broke or not was anyone’s guess. Jett guessed not…it was nokia.

“Let go of me!” Jett shouted as he still tried –unsuccessfully- to free himself. Germany’s hands held him with almost no effort despite his mad struggling. Jett tried every way he could think of to squirm away from the German but no matter what way he twisted his body or kicked out his legs never once did he get a chance at freedom.

What made it worse was the silence.   
Germany spoke not a word as his steady hands dragged Jett into the open and then began pulling him under his body, careful never to give him a second of freedom or an opening to escape. Once Jett was completely trapped under Germany his grip moved from his ankles to his wrists, making the exchange carefully but fluently as he once again trapped Jett in, pinning his arms up above his head and trapped his legs beneath his body as he straddled the squirming Australian.

“Get the fuck off me!” Jett snarled, jerking about as he glared up at Germany, trying to keep to his usual nature and not show how terrified he was. However the tears he’d already shed betrayed him. Much to Australia’s frustration Germany still said nothing, staring down at Jett with dark eyes. They no longer resembled the eyes of the Germany he had known, Jett’s breath caught in his throat as he recognised that dark eyed expression.  
How had he not noticed that Germany was completely mad?

Jett was startled into silence and stillness, unable to look away from those dilated blue eyes. Germany’s lips twitched up in a smirk seeing Jett’s scared face, like a poor trapped rabbit…it was so tempting. Still keeping his silence Germany shifted closer to Jett, the two barely a breath apart. Germany could feel Jett’s trembling form under him, see the tears he still had left to shed and he _loved_ it.

Closing the distance between them Germany caught Australia in a rough kiss, not giving the Australian any room to protest as he dominated Jett’s lips with no trouble. It was better than Germany had thought it would be, their brief accidental kiss was no longer enough for him to be content. His satisfaction was cut short however as Jett was able to turn his head away, panting for air with a very distinct look of terror on his face.

Annoyed Germany’s gloved hand released Jett’s wrist and grabbed his face, forcing him to look back the correct way so Germany could kiss him again, making sure he had no escape this time. Jett’s eyes screwed shut desperately as his mind went blank, unable to even stop the kiss as Germany’s tongue asked for entrance slyly. The mere touch of the warm appendage causing the inexperienced country to gasp in alarm and ultimately be overcome by the German’s dominance. There was a short struggled as Jett all but tried to force Germany’s tongue back out but he failed in even that and was eventually reduced to muffled whimpers.

He couldn’t breathe, Jett tried to pull away again but found Germany’s grip on his face to be impossible to break. Thankfully the distraction of holding his face and dominating his mouth made the grip on his wrists looser and Jett was able to get a single hand free and beat against Germany’s chest. The action didn’t hinder the stronger male but it did catch his interest. He pulled back from Jett, completely composed as Jett panted meekly, unaware of the thin trail of saliva that trailed down his flushed cheek.

“D-Don’t…” He gasped pathetically, fresh tears in his eyes. Jett had dealt with plenty of abuse in his time and while this reminded him eerily of England, things had never taken this kind of turn with his big brother. Always painful and humiliating but never… _this_.  
Germany stared down at him, never speaking as he gazed on the submissive, red faced Australian, he obvious did not even realise how pathetically subservient he looked in that moment.

“Let go of me…bastard…” Jett panted, still beating against Germany’s chest. Germany allowed this behaviour for a moment longer before taking Jett’s hand by the wrist, bringing it up to his face while watching for the way Jett’s face morphed into fear as he realised his mistake.

Germany’s tongue lightly grazed across Jett’s wrist, following across an old scar that ran along that vital point. Immediately the smaller nation jerked back, flinching in terror at the small action. Germany shuddered in delight, such small actions caused Jett to become visibly frightened, he’d been well conditioned by England but that also annoyed Ludwig. He needed Jett to be conditioned to him, not Arthur.

Jett’s eyes widened at Germany’s teeth grazed against his delicate skin, biting down slightly when he found the deepest point of the scar. Germany was staring right at him, gauging his reaction in those cold blue eyes as he toyed with him. Jett couldn’t stand it any longer.   
With all the strength he had retained Jett was able to land one solid blow on Germany’s face. The German was surprised as he fell away from Jett, more take off guard than he was hurt by Jett’s hit but it allowed the male a moment to escape and he took it. Very quickly Germany’s surprise turned anger –Jett didn’t get far.

“Sta-Stay the hell away from me!” He’d just been able to twist himself around and scramble a short distance before Germany’s arms locked around him in a firm hold from behind, constricting his body as he was once again trapped under the older nation. Gritting his teeth Jett fought against panicked tears as he felt Germany’s cold fingers bunching up the fabric of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his scarred back. Jett squirmed about but found no matter what he did Germany’s hold kept him firmly trapped.

“P-Please stop!” Jett cried out when Germany’s lips brushed against the small of his back, teeth lightly running along his flesh in warning. Jett stop squirming, tensing up as the light kisses travelled upwards, following the curve of his back and Jett could only tremble and shake with each gentle touch, terrified of the brutality that lay under that gentle guise. The words he tried to speak firmly fell away into the occasional gasp or whine.  
Germany’s tongue lashed against one of the many scars that covered his back and Jett’s tightly shut eyes began to form tears at the corners.

“These places.” Jett’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Germany’s voice, the male had been so silent but now he spoke while touching Jett’s scars. “Are where he’s marked you.” Germany’s lips ghosted over one of Jett’s old lashings.

“A scar from where he lashed you.” He breathed quietly. “A burn from where he punished you.” Another gentle touch. “A pattern from where he's marked you.”

“These are the placed England has laid claim to. He hurt you didn’t he Jett?” Germany cooed quietly in Jett’s ear, smirking as Jett’s breath became frantic and uneven. “But he’s not yet lay claim to this has he?”

Jett’s breath caught in his throat and Germany’s hand dipped lower, brushing against his most vital region. Jett couldn’t even speak, he was so terrified that words were completely lost from his mind. Germany was quite pleased with this shaken silence.

“Perfect.” Germany purred quietly. “I’ll teach you proper obedience for a little brother.”

…  
...  
...

“Ngh…ah!” Jett tried to keep quiet as Germany’s hands roamed his body, he really did try.  He’d actually tried a lot of things.   
He’d tried escaping Germany again and again but all his efforts gained him was a pair of handcuffs and a gag. Germany left Jett’s legs free when he’d bound him to the bed, if only so he could see them jolt and kick with every small touch.

The cuffs clinked and rattled at Jett strained against them, still trying to find some way to freedom despite the obvious failure to be found in his efforts.

Jett had learned quickly to fear the moments in which Germany’s hands left his body or the male’s presence vanished to some unseen area because each time he returned Germany had a ‘gift’ with him. First it had been the cuffs, then the blindfold and finally his gag and when Germany left his side for the fourth time Jett was practically in tears over the mere thought of what he’d bring for him next.

A gentle pressure travelled up Jett’s leg causing the male to tense up violently as his brain frantically tried to put a name to the item that trailed along his flesh teasingly. It took him a while but Jett finally got it, it was a crop. Above him Germany gave a soft chuckle, sounding more pleased than Jett had ever heard him before.

“If you do not misbehave I’ll only use this lightly.” He promised but Jett didn’t trust Germany’s word this time around. He growled through his gag, expressing his disbelief but the sound only brought about another soft chuckle from the other followed by a frustrating silence. Jett trembled uncontrollably as the crop travelled along the underside of his thigh, only to rest against his vital region. Again Jett strained against the chains giving a small cry of surprise as the crop glided over the sensitive flesh tauntingly.

“See?” Germany purred as the crop moved over Jett’s tip. “A good little brother is rewarded with kindness.”

 _Fuck your good little brother bullshit!_ Jett thought viciously, able to get a clear picture of Germany despite the blindfold, about to gauge his position by where he was touched and where the bed dipped down under Ludwig’s weight. With one sharply delivered kick Jett slammed his foot into Germany’s shoulder, causing the male to jerk back with a grunt and as a result remove that crop from his vital region. Of course only after Jett had preformed the act did he think it through and thoroughly regret his choice.

“ _Jett_.” Germany spoke his name in a drawn out growl of annoyance. Not a moment the crop returned –across his face. The sound of the punishing weapon cracking across his face caused Jett to flinch more than the actual blow, he’d been whipped plenty with much worse. He would have smirked had the gag not prohibited such actions. Unfortunately this seemed to become clear to Germany as well and he changed his tactics for punishment drastically.

Jett let out a scream as the crop assaulted his vital region again, pushing inside of his previously untouched body. Jett’s head was thrown back as the muffled scream continued with every inch deeper the crop went, Jett felt new tears spring to the surface –hadn’t he already cried them all?

“I warned you.” Germany purred as he slowly began to draw the crop back out before slamming it back again, pleased by the cries it brought forth from the Australian. “Bad little brothers get the crop.” Jett strained and jerked with every intrusion of the object, it was rough and foreign in his body, there was no amount of pleasure to be found in the action. France was a fucking liar!

“Ple-mgh! Sto-ah.” Jett tried to plead but the gag made it impossible to fully pronounce the pathetic words and in a way that was a mercy. Even though his abuser heard the words they went by unheeded as the motions of the crop shifting in and out increased to the point Jett thought he would tear inside.

“If you bite I’ll punish you further.” Germany sounded composed above him and it took Jett a second or two to realise why he’d said it. The gag was removed and replaced with gloved fingers. Jett gagged around the intruding digits more than he had the actual gag. “If you don’t suck it’ll hurt.” Germany warned a smirk in his voice. “Suck.”

Despite his revolution at the idea Jett had no real alternative and thus tried to do was he was instructed. The gloves tasted a little bit like blood and Jett tried to simply not think about why that was. Once Germany was satisfied with Jett’s work the fingers were retracted, allowing Jett to cough and pant to his lungs content. Finally the crop was removed and for just a moment there was relief until Jett felt Germany’s slick fingers probing his entrance.

“N-No, don-” Jett cried out even as two of Germany’s finger pushed inside of him. Jett’s words were reduced to quiet choking sounds as he was invaded. Germany’s fingers rhythmically pushed in and out of his body, thankfully Jett had done his job when sucking Germany’s fingers and so he did not tear like he feared. His cries eventually became quiet pants and whimpers, finding the pain became slight discomfort fairly quickly.

Germany watched the male under him slowly become reduced to a panting withering mess and frowned. He had wanted to toy with him longer; Ludwig had various toys and punishments he would have very much enjoyed employing but seeing Jett in this state made patience impossible to grasp.

“Another day.” He promised himself, ignoring the sound of confusion Jett made as he gradually retracted his fingers. “Forgive me.” He murmured to Jett who just for a second seemed hopefully that Germany was going to free him, how foolish. “Seems I’ve run out of patience.”

Rough hands grabbed his legs, hoisting them up and exposing his vital regions again. Jett could not see but he did not need his sight to know what it was that replaced Germany’s fingers at his vital region. Jett snapped. Tears ran freely once more and his voice became free, frantically pushing out words before Jett could even process them.

“No! D-Don’t, Germany don’t do that! Plea- D-Don’t! Please! Bitte, bitte, halt!” Jett stumbled over his words, even trying some in German as the intruding member pressed firming against his unwilling body. If Germany were to claim his vital regions Jett wasn’t sure what would happen, he’d heard ghost stories of the event but seeing as Australia had never really had anything of the sort happen he’d never even come close to such an experience. What if…what if the stories were right and after this he no longer had any control?   
What would happen to Chris and Zea?

For a few still seconds Ludwig heard out Jett’s fractured pleas, gaze focused downward as he allowed thefrantic begging to continue, almost as though he was considering it.

“It’s too late for that.” Was Germany’s simple reply before he thrust himself inside of Jett, earning an ear piercing scream from the smaller male. Germany gave a small shudder as he became sheathed within the tight cavern, it was hot inside and while Germany had no intentions on being kind towards his prisoner he did not want to break him either and so for just a moment he stayed motionless, watching as Jett squirmed and cried out in agony. Germany’s endurance didn’t last, he needed to hear more of those cries and he needed to feel more of this body he invaded.

With every rough thrust a new set of cries left Jett’s mouth. He’d never felt anything this painful before, he’d believed whole heartedly that he was rough as nails after all his struggles but he was being torn down from the inside by Germany.  Germany’s thrusts were forceful and powerful as he forced himself inside of the smaller nation over and over, enjoying the constant stream of wails that his actions brought forth.  
But even this was not enough. This was not punishment enough, Jett had dealt pain before so Ludwig had to target something else.

Abruptly Jett’s back arched up off the bed as something deep within his core was hit, Jett didn’t realise his prostate had been found. Screams suddenly broke away into shocked, wanton moans and Jett’s confusion scared him, he did not know what to make of these abnormal feelings but he did know it brought unwanted pleasure.

“D-Don’t…ngh, ah! N-Not there, not that. P-Plea- Ahh!” Jett did not realise his mistake in pleading, did not realise the vicious joy it brought to his abuser. The thrusts became rougher and more focused on Jett’s sweet spot, drawing forth humiliated cries of pleasure. Before long Jett was reduced to nothing more than a moaning panting mess under Ludwig.

Above him Germany was not satisfied with just this either, he needed to see Jett’s face as he made such agonised sounds. With one hand the German tore the blindfold free of Jett’s face, revealing his crying face fully. Jett’s eyes were glazed over and even as they looked up at Ludwig’s smiling face he couldn’t quite see anything. With every rough thrust to his sweet spot a little more of Jett seemed to fade into the back of his mind. With just a little more Jett would completely vanish from the conscious mind and leave behind the pleasure smitten male that desired to release the heat that gathered in his core. Germany was more than willing to push that extra bit as his hand wrapped around Jett’s neglected member, pumping in time with his hard thrusts, sending Jett spiralling into sick darkness.

“Ahh! G-Germany, Ludwig!” Jett cried out unreservedly as he was overcome with mind numbing pleasure. “B-Brother! Brother!” Jett cried, confused and deranged by this intrusion and crippling pleasure.

“Do you want release?” Germany asked between quietly controlled pants. “Beg for it, beg for me to allow you pleasure.” Jett was too far gone to deny and the moment the order was given a string of begging pleas left Jett’s drooling mouth.

With another pounding thrust into his prostrate Jett threw his head back with one last loud moan, feeling his first orgasm overtake him. Blinding white light flashed past Jett’s eyes as he was overcome with complete bliss, the submissive look on his face and that last beautiful moan coupled with the tightening of his orgasm brought Ludwig to his own finish. With that last uneven thrust Germany emptied his essence into Jett and claimed his vital regions for his own.

Germany could not be more pleased.

Jett’s strength left him the moment they had reached their peak and now the only sounds he made were quiet pants and the occasional whimper of pain from the soreness that lingered in his backside. His mind was left fuzzy and for the most part no logical thought could be found. Even as his arms were freed and the cuffs tossed aside Jett did not try to escape and even as the strong hands that had abused him scooped him up into an embrace he did not protest. As he was pulled into Germany’s hold Jett’s eyes merely began to dip shut with the feeling of Ludwig’s surprising gentle fingers brushing through his hair lulling him into a dreamless sleep. As his mind began to turn off the last coherent thoughts on his mind were very different to the ones he’d been having an hour ago.

 _It hurt…. It really did hurt._  
But belonging to someone always hurt didn’t it?  
…He’d get used to it.

 “Now you belong to me.” Were the last words Jett heard before his mind shut down and sleep claimed him for itself.

 

...  
...  
… (Back at England’s place.)

 

“England, dude!” America tried to reason with the stubborn Brit as he walked down the halls of his home briskly. America wasn’t alone, on the other side of Arthur France was trying to talk England back down into his bed as well.

“Mon Cher, you’re not well enough to be up and about. You look dreadful.” There was a joke in there to be found about Arthur always looking awful but France kept it to himself for once.

“Back off.” England snarled, jerking his arm away from America. “My little brother needs me. I will not return to that bed and lay about like a useless, waste of a brother!”

“Dude, it’s got to be a trap.” Alfred was repeating himself over and over but the angry Brit was deaf to his warnings.

“I know my brother.” Arthur replied icily. “I know when he’s afraid and I know when he’s crying. He is in trouble and he’s just always the last one to realise it.”

“Are you hearing yourself? You’re delusional.” Alfred snapped, stepping ahead of Arthur and blocking him from proceeding further. “You’re always scolding me for not thinking, right? Well stop and think for a damn second!”

“America is right.” France said with a frown. “Damn you for making me say those words but he is. You need to clear your head Arthur.”

Arthur looked between the two, frustration pooling in his stomach, he knew that he was right. There was no way that he was mistaken about it this time, Jett needed to be saved and Arthur was not going to sit by and do nothing. But these two twits weren’t going to let him do anything..  
Funny America had been encouraging war earlier now he was opposed to any form of action at all on England’s part.

“What makes you think he won’t just take out your other eye the second you set foot in Germany?” Alfred asked, face mirroring Arthur’s frustrated expression.

“He had the shot.” Arthur said finally, seeing nothing else he could use to convince America.

“He…what?” Alfred was taken off guard by the sudden answer.

“Back when he took my eye.” Arthur repeated slowly. “He had the gun on me. I know my Jett, he never would have missed a shot and in that close range no less. He had the chance and he didn’t take it. That’s enough for me, that’s enough to prove he still is my little brother!”

“The gun must have jammed.” Alfred argued. “Or maybe he just sucks or something…”

“I _know_ my Jett.” Arthur repeated coolly. “If he’d pulled that trigger I’d most definitely not be standing right here today.”

“I know him to. I know him just as well as you do!” America argued, anger rising between the two fairly quickly.

“You? What would _you_ know?” America could see the words coming, he knew what England would say, he knew he’d bring up the treaty again and their tense relationship and Alfred snapped. Reaching forward abruptly he grabbed a fist full of England’s shirt, jerking him up slightly.

“America!” France stepped forward, no doubt intending to separate the two countries but Arthur stopped him with a single hand gesture, glaring back at America’s narrowed blue eyes with his own cold green hues.

“Yes. _Me_!” Alfred shouted. “I’ve been by his side in every war, every conflict, I’ve been right there with him! Ever since the first World War I’ve been by his side…” Alfred grit his teeth together remembering all the times he and Australia had worked together, remembering the strangely cheerful nature of the Australian soldiers even when faced with death and killing. This time it was Arthur stunned into silence, having not realised that America really had been by Australia’s side for all that time.

Alfred’s grip tightened as his head dipped down, feeling some type of remorse flood through him. Sure he’d been by Australia’s side all this time but that was because every time Alfred called Jett had been right there ready to offer his help, treaty or not.  
The Australian troops always laughed and made pathetic jokes before doing their job to the best they could, Australians were almost scary in the way they found the light in even the darkest of war but they kept their hearts warm and their hopes high. America had always appreciated that.

_“I just feel like it.” Jett told him when he came out to meet him on the battle field, arms crossed with a scowl on his face. Just as they always had Jett and Chris had appeared to help him on the battle field again. “It’s not because you asked me to or anything like that, I just do what I want. Got that yankee?”_

Every time America needed Jett he was right there, even when he did not want to. Even when he was not sure if it was right or America was being an outright fool…Jett still backed him up. Even though they were no longer brothers Jett still took in all of his media and culture with an air of distaste and even allowed him to be a fool when in his home and never kicked him out. Even without being brothers America was strangely part of Australia just as England was. To think that Arthur thought he didn’t care even a little…Alfred couldn’t stand it.

“He’s my bro you know…?” Alfred muttered softly. “He’s my back up.”

“Then back him up now.” Arthur murmured quietly. “You’re a hero right?”

Alfred struggled for words, ending up in an uncomfortable silence as all three had to reset their feelings on the matter. None of them wanted war, they couldn’t afford to go to war right then but Arthur still intended to get his brother from Germany, even if he did so not as a country but as himself. No matter what way he wasn’t going to back down.

“Fine.” America sighed eventually, shoulders slumping somewhat. “Say you’re right, say we dash off to save that grumpy Australian how do you propose we even start doing that? We can’t march into Germany with our troops and Jett doesn’t seem to be able to wander out, so what is your plan? Not to mention there are only three of us as individuals, not exactly a match for Germany’s men.”

Alfred had a point, though Arthur would die before admitting it. Getting to Jett without triggering World War Three was no easy task. Arthur suddenly felt deflated, he didn’t know how he could save his own brother with only Alfred and Francis as back up and frankly…Francis may as well not be counted for all Arthur trusted him to do.

“Ah. I believe that’s where we come in.” The three shared a collective jump at the voice that came from ahead of them. America stepped away from Arthur, turning back to looked at the three that stood in the hall. America barely recognised them but France brightened.

“Scott.” France declared happily pushing past Alfred to get to the red headed nation, the two having been on quite good terms despite France and England’s less than favourable relationship.

“Who are they?” America asked England bluntly who scowled, not sure if he was more annoyed to see his brothers or that Alfred did not recognise them.

“They’re my brothers you fucking toss pot. Ireland, Scotland and Wales.” Arthur said pointing at each brother when he said the name. “As to why they’re here I have no idea.” Hearing his unfriendly tone Scotland turned his attention away from France and grinned around his cigarette.

“Heard you fucked up.” He said mockingly as he neared England, reaching out to clamp his hand down none to gently on his little brother’s head. “What kind of big brothers would we be if we didn’t clean up your mess?”

“I don’t remember asking for your help!” England snapped, pushing his brother’s hand away from his head.

“You didn’t need to.” Wales spoke thankfully before Scotland could open his mouth and spit some swears at England. Wales was the least foul tempered and was probably the most agreeable of all the UK brothers with kinder features and brown hair. He smiled as he spoke to ease the conversation before a fight could break loose and waste all their time.

“We heard all about yer situation with Australia from France.” England shot a glare at the Frenchman who suddenly found the wall on the opposite side of the room very interesting and looked away from England innocently. “Well we’re part of the UK as well that make him our little brother, it’s only natural that we’d pitch in. Besides, if New Zealand is getting involved I’d…like to be there.”

“Aye.” Scott agreed, reluctant to pass up an argument with England but heaven knows there’d be more time for that. “Liam, Owen and I agreed it was best to pitch in.”

Arthur struggled with this, his brothers were not his favourite people in the world but they had agreed that they’d need more help as individuals instead of countries, this was better than nothing. But only just.

“Alright, I’ll accept.” Arthur muttered. “Just don’t get in my way.”

“As if we’re the ones that would get in the way.” Liam replied, causing England to grind his teeth, Ireland annoyed him.

“You annoying little…” It didn’t take long for the brothers to begin their usual display of sibling bickering.

Alfred had been deaf to the entire exchange, staring dumbfounded at the four brothers with his mouth hanging open shamelessly.

“What’s wrong with the wee American?” Scott asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the gaping Alfred. “Did ya even get raising him arseways?” England flushed in embarrassment, why was America such a fool?

“America!” England barked, getting Alfred’s attention finally. “What are you gawking at?!”

“It’s just….” Alfred murmured, awestruck as he stared. “…like looking at an enchanted forest.”

The four Kirkland’s blinked in America’s direction, only France understood that America meant their bushy eyebrows and consequently broke down in hysterical laughter much to the brother’s confusion.

It wasn’t the most effective group of heroes but hell; the world had seen worse groups before.  
But only just.

 

...  
...  
...

 

Obedience - End


	7. Manipulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm adding little mini titles to the fic. Just for fun.

_Chris has a dream._

 

 

_“Hey. Heeey! Australia!” Jett winced at the sound of Alfred calling him. Turning to face the frantically waving fool, Jett frowned and by his side Chris waved back._

_America came dashing up to them, panting heavily as he hunched over, resting his hands on his knees to stay balanced. Laughter mixed into ragged breathing but still he smiled like a fool._

_“America, mate.” Chris laughed. “Maybe less burgers on the battle field?”_

_“Never!” America gasped back._

_“You’re late. How can you be late to your own attack?” Jett asked annoyed by this behaviour. “I didn’t drag my ass all the way out here to wait on you Yankee. Don’t waste Chris’s time when he’s just getting use to running Australia. We shouldn’t have come out here at all.”_

_“But you came didn’t you?” America grinned brightly up at Jett._

_“Guess I did…”_

_~~~_

_“Australia!” Jett heard America calling him again, this time his voice was filled with concern as he shouted the male’s name. Australia wanted to respond to America and tell him to lower his fucking voice but he couldn’t move an inch, his whole body was in fire and the best he could manage were some weak agonised groans._

_It took America a while to find the struggling Australian in the arms of his New Zealand brother, neither looking even remotely okay. A look of regret crossed America’s face as he crouched down by his two ANZAC allies. The attack hadn’t gone very well, the Turks had completely destroyed Australia in Gallipoli and the nation was definitely feeling the blow. Jett hacked violently as he let out a dry laugh._

_“M-My first real big fight and it goes down like this…? Hah…how pathetic.” America grit his teeth together, wishing that he had not been sent here to retrieve Jett and Toby, why did England have to ask him to do it?_

_“….did we do enough?” Jett murmured, seeming as though he was passing out. “…is England pleased…?”_

_“Y-yeah.” America lied with a smile. In the end the campaign had only served as a massive loss to Australia but there was no way he’d tell Jett that._

_“That’s good…” Jett breathed with a pained expression of relief. “Chris didn’t…have to be here. That’s all…that matters…”_

_“Come on, let’s get you two home.” America told the two and offered his hand to each other them with that warm smile of his._

_~~~_

_“What do you mean ‘invade’!?” Jett demanded angrily. “We’ve never been invaded before, there’s no way the Japanese would do it now! It’s not logical, our defences are low but Japan would never waste their time with this, we’re too hard to capture and too far away.”_

_“They’re already on our doorstep.” Jett’s boss told him evenly causing the nation to grit his teeth in frustration. “Invasion may not be their plan but they have worked on isolating us from the Allies.”_

_“What about America? Any word?”_

_“Seems that they’ve already cut off communications to the United States.” His boss replied with a frown._

_“Damn it!” Turning away from his boss and bursting out the doors, like hell he’d let those Axis powers invade his country. Chris was still just getting use to the reigns of being an official country so Jett had to defend against Japan while serving the Allies where he could. Jett had to guard his friend’s home from further invasion, once was more than enough._

_However when he stepped foot outside his home Jett found Alfred sitting on his front step. Stunned the Australian stopped and merely stared at his former brother and Chris who stood in front of him. Noticing Jett the American turned and grinned, giving him a thumbs up._

_“Got your back.” He said simply with his happy smile. Chris was smiling too and gradually Australia’s expression softened into a smile to. Alfred then held up his fist expectantly to Jett._

_“Fucking Yankee….” Jett laughed bumping Alfred’s fist with his own._

_~~~_  
  


_“Alfred this is retarded.” Jett complained. “Why are we even here?”_

_“They have weapons of mass destruction._ Destruction _I tell you!” Alfred said frantically. “As the hero it’s my job to stop the evil doers!”_

 _“Yeah that’s your thing and all but why am_ I _here?” Jett growled back. “You bullied me into this, besides didn’t you give them the wepons…?”_

_“A hero doesn’t bully!” Alfred cried in alarm._

_“You told us we would be against you if we didn’t help out.” Jett reminded him and Alfred just whistled innocently. “Arg, fine!” Jett snarled angrily while pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m here now, let’s get this over with you paranoid fuck of a country…”_

_“Hey where’s Chris?” America asked catching Jett off guard. “You never bring him to the battle field. What? You his mother or something?”_

_“He’s got me.” Jett snapped. “So Chris doesn’t need to see violent things, I’ll take care of that so he can stay safe and happy at the beach.”_

_“You’re an overprotective brother…” Alfred replied flatly, getting a fist to the top of his head._

_“I hope a drop bear falls on your head.”_

_~~~_

_“Chris.” The male jumped at his name to see Jett standing over him with an annoyed expression. “What are you doing?”_

_“Look big brother!” Chris held out his attempts at wood carving to his brother but all Jett seemed interested in was the cuts on Chris’s hands._

_Sitting down next to his brother Jett grabbed his hands, inspecting how much damage Chris had done while carving. Some were bleeding and looked like they’d sting for a while but nothing dangerous to Chris’s health._

_“Idiot.” Jett growled, jamming his finger between Chris’s eyes causing the younger male to yelp. “What did I tell you about being careful with knives?”_

_“But I…” Chris whined holding out the carving again, needing Jett to see his good work. Jett eventually did take a look at the little wooden carving. “Do you like it?” Jett gave a reluctant smile and sighed._

_“Yeah…it looks good, you dumb little ankle biter. You gave it a fair go but let’s not go going it again, eh?” Jett told him, patting Chris on the head. In return Chris grinned brightly._

_“Good! It’s for you.” Jett looked surprised for a second but gradually he smiled again. “Promise you’ll keep it!”_

_“Yeah, whatever I promise. Thanks Chris.”_

_~~~_

_  
“Chris! Are you okay?” Chris heard Jett shouting for him as he trembled and shivered in his bed. His big brother stood in the doorway, panting heavily with a bed ridden appearance after having been stirred from his sleep by the younger nations screams._

_Seeing Chris was not physically harmed Jett walked into the room, drawing away the blankets from his brother’s shuddering form._

_“Bad dreams?” He questioned and Chris gave a meek nod of his head. With a gentle sigh Jett ran his fingers through his hair, relieved that it was just nightmares and not something more serious._

_“So…” He murmured while sitting down next to the scared boy, patting back his hair to comfort him. “What did you dream about?”_

_“You went away…” Chris admitted quietly. Jett felt his heart seize up, to hear his little brother say something that cute and heart wrenching brought mixed feelings to the Australian._

_“Well I’m right here.” Jett tried to sooth Chris’s mind. “I’ll never go anywhere. I’ll be right by your side always okay?”_

_“You vanished…” Chris didn’t seem convinced. “You just…stopped existing and no one remembered you! Not even big brother Zea!” Chris looked at his brother, expecting some comfort but instead found a bittersweet smile._

_“Is that right…?” Jett didn’t want to tell Chris it may very well happen, once his little brother became Australia Jett didn’t know what would happen to him. He didn’t want to tell Chris another lie so he instead said. “But you remembered me didn’t you?”_

_“Well…yeah.” Chris murmured quietly. “I couldn’t forget.”_

_“Well there you go!” Jett smiled drawing the boy into a hug. “I’ll be right here with you because you remember me. So just don’t forget your big brother okay?”_

_“Got it!” Chris smiled again but panicked when Jett made to leave, gabbing hold of his brother’s shirt desperately. “Please stay with me.” He pleaded softly. “I…If you vanish in my dreams again…”_

_Jett smiled gently and sat back on the bed, wrapping a single arm around his little brother. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you like.”_

_“If you’re here I won’t have nightmares.” Chris murmured, confident in that fact._

_“I’ll make sure you never have nightmares again.” Jett promised him and after that night…he never did.  
Just as promised Jett took all the young boy’s nightmares away._

_“Want me to sing you a dream time story?” Jett asked, bringing back all those nightmares in an instant._

_“It’d rather listen to the possums hiss.” Chris answered flatly. “Sounds better.”_

_“Why you…!” Chris laughed at his brother’s furious face but after that he slept like a rock, ignoring the horrifying thought of Jett singing._

_~~~_

_“You can’t see him!” Chris heard the sound of Jett’s shouting voice and paused outside of the door it came from. Inside Jett was standing opposite a man that Chris did not recognise._

_“Be practical.” The man tried to reason with Chris’s angry big brother. “He is my brother just as much as you are.”_

_“I don’t care!” Jett snapped back furiously. “Chris is my little brother, you can’t see him, you can’t have any say in his life.”_

_“I know you’re still sore about the native country but you must see reason-“_

_“Get out.” Jett told the opposite male coldly. “Get out of my country England. Chris is under my protection, you’ll never lay a god damn hand on him.”_

_“Jack…!” The man called England tried to protest but Jett had already turned away and was heading towards the door. Chris scrambled back from it, not wanting to be caught spying._

_“I will never allow Australia to be hurt again.” He distantly heard Jett telling the other. “This time will be different. I finally have a chance, one I never dreamed I could get. I won’t let you ruin this for me!”_

_Chris hadn’t understood the conversation but he didn’t want to see his big brother upset and it scared him to some extent. So like any young nation he hid in his room wishing to forget about the shouting._

_“Chris?” Jett called him and the door to his room creaked open. Chris acted as though he was asleep as Jett entered his room. The bed creaked slightly as his big brother sat on it and Chris felt a gentle warmth against his head where Jett pat him._

_“This time I’ll protect you.” He heard Jett murmur. “You’ll make a good Australia, you’ll make the Australia we always dreamed of.”_

_Chris didn’t know who ‘we’ was or why he kept saying things like ‘this time’ but he didn’t care, his big brother was placing trust in him and it filled the young nation with pride.  
Before Jett left he laid a small item on Chris’s bedside table and kissed his little brother’s forehead._

_“Happy birthday Australia. This way I’ll be with you always.”_

_With the quiet click of the door shutting Chris sat up and scurried over to the side of the bed to see what Jett had left. Sitting in a small box was a necklace and on that necklace was a little wood carving, almost a mirror image to the one he’d made Jett. It was crudely made just like his had been and Chris saw a splash of blood on its side where Jett must have cut himself._

_Chris smiled from ear to ear as he slipped it around his neck, finding that his part of the now two set carvings fit him perfectly._

…  
...  
...

“ _Happy birthday Australia….”_ Chris’s eyes opened just slightly and he found himself staring at the same necklace he’d been given back then. The fragile item lying securely in his hand even as he’d slept.  
“ _This way I’ll be with you always.”_ Chris missed not having dreams –even the nice ones.

Chris tried to sit up now that he’d awoken but only got a rush of agony for his efforts, resulting in his falling back on his side with a small groan. Okay so his body wasn’t being a great deal of help right then.

“You’re awake.” Chris damn near smiled at that voice.

“Zeeeea.” He drew out the name while turning over onto his back to see his big brother sitting close by, observing him with his usual passive expression. Chris just grinned back, happy to see the other nation.

“Mate. When did you come to see me?” Chris asked cheerfully before pausing and then asking sheepishly. “Actually…where are we?” Zea was giving him that frustrated expression again.

“Germany’s basement…at a guess. He hit my head a pretty hard…I could be wrong.” Zea answered, leaning back against the bars of their current accommodation, staring blankly out into the darkness.

“Would it have killed him to leave a light on?” Chris complained childishly. “Or left a heater? This place is bloody cold.”

“It’s at least twenty degrees down here.” Toby corrected him.

“Yeah, sure but there’s no sun.” Chris protested. “I’m not warm unless it’s thirty degrees in the shade and the heat of the sun is scorching my back! Actually it’s rolling around to Summer again soon isn’t it? Do you think that the others would like to try a summer Christmas this year around? America always seemed interested in the idea, of course England never seemed entirely sold on it.”

“But I swear! That yankee needs another lesson on cane toad huntin’.” Chris went on to complain while Toby listened in silent awe. “It’s his bloomin’ fault that they’re around and he can’t even hit one with a cricket bat! Man can knock a ball out of the park but he can’t hit a toad on the noggin? I’ll be stoked if he ain’t the most useless larrikin I ever lay eyes on-“

“Do you even realise our situation right now?” Toby cut across indignantly as Australia went off on a happy little tangent on the importance of BBQs around Christmas time. “How can you talk about that right now?” Toby was getting annoyed with Chris’s lack of concern in their current predicament.

“Hm? Oh yeah. She’ll be right” Chris laughed good naturedly before wincing at the pain such an action brought on. Leaning back on his elbows Chris stared up at the ceiling with a remaining smile on his face.

“Well I guess you could say I’m not all that worried. Nah, that’s a lie.” Australia corrected himself. “I’m scared and it still hurt a bit to chat but that’s no reason to act glum.” Chris never failed to amaze Toby while at the same time he never failed to frustrate his brother nation.

“How do you feel?” Toby asked finally, deciding it was best not to question his little brother’s approach to stressful situations. “You said it still hurts, can you move?”

“Not much.” Australia admitted with a frown. “It doesn’t hurt as much as before so I guess I could thank Germany for that.” Chris shuddered at the thought. During his treatment he’d come around once or twice and found that Germany’s treatment methods were a far cry from gentle.  
“Would have been much better if I’d had a cute nurse or something.” Chris added with a snap of his fingers on his good hand. Annoyingly it was not his dominant hand and the sound was a little less crisp than he would have liked.

“Take this seriously for once.” Zea muttered. “Even if Jett’s not friendly at least he’d be looking for a way out.”

“Uh…” Chris’s smile faded slightly at the mention of their brother. “About Jett….where is he?”

Toby noticed the change in his brother, the lack of a smile or cheerful tone making the smaller nation uncomfortable and a tad guilty. Chris may have been annoying and a little too carefree but Toby hadn’t wanted to make him sad.

“I’m not sure. Our link been numbed for quite some time now, I couldn’t tell you anything. What about you? Nothing on your end either?”

“Hey mate.” Chris sighed. “I can’t feel anything other than my resetting bones. Even if Jett and I were linked like normal I couldn’t feel anything past that. If anything Jett would be feeling me, serves him right for beating me like that. Man…that bastards got one hell of a left hook!”

“How are you so laid back about this…?” Toby asked. “Even for you…this I strangely tolerant.”

What surprised New Zealand more than the answer was the sullen silence that followed his question. Chris’s expression became painful and after a moment of consideration his little brother made an effort to sit up, needing Toby’s held to even get up right.

“Thanks.” Chris murmured with a faint smile, obviously still suffering slightly from the movement.

“Are you going to answer me?” Toby asked, truly mystified by this. If it had been he that Jett had abused he doubted he’d smile and act so indifferent.

“Jett’s my mate.” Chris answered like it was the simplest thing in the world…and to Chris it was.

“He’s the one that taught me not to play with unfriendly snakes.” _There were friendly ones?_

“Or that I shouldn’t laugh at others when they said ‘rooting’ for you. Even when he laughed as well.” _Well of course not!_

“He told me that I’d scare Mattie if I called him a shark biscuit when teaching him to surf.” _Anyone would be scared by that…_

“And that Alfred would take me seriously if I told him about drop bears and my kangaroo army, so I should do it more!” _What a responsible caretaker…_

“He told me why that pommy bastard brother of ours would choke and die whenever I offered him my thongs.” _Really Jett….why didn’t you teach him anything useful?_

“…”Toby stopped reprimanding Australia in his mind when he heard the other nation fall quiet for a second.

 “And if I was scared…he’d be the one that’d hold me until I wasn’t. If I was crying, he’d be the one that make me smile again. He’d pull my hair and beat my head when I’d spit the dummy but he’d always praise me and comfort me even if he was spewin’.”

Chris smiled faintly and closed his eyes, remembering all he and Jett had done together, remembering all the times he’d seen in his dreams and all the things Jett had done for him without uttering a word about it.

“What’s the point in fighting if I can’t keep what’s most important to me by my side?” Chris glanced at Toby questioningly and smiled warmly though it was not a cheerful expression.

“I have a feeling that before I was born someone asked me something important.” Closing his eyes Chris imagined the boy he’d seen in his dreams and the mirror. Australia was slowly coming to terms with what that boy was and even more slowly realising his history wasn’t as rosy as he believed and that Jett had not been as perfect as he imagined.

“What did they ask?” Toby questioned, believing him whole heartedly…after all Toby had known the native boy that he believed lived on in his brother.

“I can’t remember.” Chris laughed sheepishly. “But…I know my answer is the reason why I am here. I believe that my answer was to stay with my big brother.” Smiling Chris stretched despite the pain and listened to his bones snapping and creaking.

 “This feeling I never could entirely forget…what do you call it?” Chris murmured thoughtfully. “It hurts and inside my chest my heart is pounding away. It’s a painful feeling and I’m not sure what to call this nostalgic nonsense.”

Toby couldn’t answer his brother even as Chris began to cry, smiling as bitter tears filled his green eyes. Toby did not remember a time he’d seen the joyful country cry in such a way, sure he screamed and threw a fit if something went wrong in the footy or cursed till he was blue when stubbing his toe but never did he cry earnest tears like this.  
Toby’s heart hurt…

“I guess you could call this feeling….happiness?” Chris laughed meekly while rubbing away the tears. He remembered the snippets of his and Jett’s memories, remembered all the things that Jett had protected him from.

“Jett’s always been by my side and he’s always protected me from everything. My past, my nightmares, even the wars we were involved in. Who was the one that went to Gallipoli? Who was the guy that dealt with the threat from Japan or kept me safe from any outside force? I’ve never even seen war or suffering because Jett took all that. He just let me enjoy the sun and bush, Jett just let me have a happy childhood. To me Jett is the entire world, to me Jett means absolutely everything.”

“In the end I don’t really care what it is he feels he needs to do or make up for, whatever he did in the old days doesn’t matter to me. Whatever regret or guilt he feels is a moot point to me. All I care about is keeping Jett with me.” As he spoke Chris’s fingers tightened around his necklace, not realising he used the same coping mechanism as his elder brother.

“This feeling, even though it’s painful is what I will call happiness.  Without Jett I cannot feel it and without my other heart I am hollow. The feelings I never could forget, I will name happiness and I will remember where it came from.”

“Chris…” Toby wrapped his arms around Chris tightly. “I don’t like this dumb version of you.”

“Yeah.” Chris barked a laugh while wrapping his arms around Zea in response, trying to dry those bitter tears. “This me is a pansy. Let’s talk about the beach some more…”

“Or escape.”

“That’s good too but the beach has sheilas on it. White pointers too!”

 _Thawk_.

“Ouch! Zea!” Chris whined, rubbing the place where Toby had thumped him. “I got it, I was just pulling ya leg mate.”

“Christian…” Both Chris and Zea stopped dead hearing a familiar voice. Standing out front of their cage was Jett and lingering behind him was Germany.

It put Zea on edge seeing the eerie smile on Jett’s face but Chris seemed ecstatic to see him, until his brother spoke again.

“Are you ready to become one now…?”

 

…  
…   
…

 

 _Jett Has a Nightmare._  
  


_“Big brother!” Jett lifted his head at the sound of a child’s voice and watched as a young Jack ran past him. Jett followed the boy’s form as he ran after his big brother._

_“Wait up.” Jack called brightly. “Wait up for me England!” Jett watched as his younger self clung on tight to England, laughing brightly as his brother pats his head smiling in return. England used to dress quite finely back then…almost like a pirate it was funny in a way._

_“Huh? B-Big brother wait up!” Jett watched as England let go of Jack and walked past him, quickly growing distant and leaving the young country shouting for him. “Please don’t leave me behind!” Jack screamed, tears running down his face._

_There was no answer from England as he rapidly vanished from sight. Never looking back as he left Jack on his own._

_Despite himself Jett walked towards the child, looking down on the crying ankle biter. With a sad sigh he dropped down to one knee and wrapped his arms around the crying boy. It was a dream…he knew that but he didn’t care. It felt important to him that someone hug the crying boy even if it was only his older self._

_“Australia.” Jack stopped crying as a gentle voice called him. Rubbing his eyes the boy looked away from Jett and up at the figure that stood tall behind his older self._

_A gloved hand stretched past Jett’s face, offered to Jack who stared up in wonder. Jett knew it was Germany standing behind him and even felt a firm hand atop his head in a small gesture of affection._

_“Come now.” Germany spoke gently and Jack didn’t hesitate, lunging out to take Germany’s hand by Jett’s head. “Being mein is much better than being alone, ja?”_

_The gentle touch of Germany’s hand left Jett’s head as the male lead young Jack away and Jack began to smile again. Jett watched the two go but he did not feel satisfied with this ending._

_“Jack!” As Jett stood he heard the sound of England’s voice screaming. When he looked however his former brother’s fuzzy form dashed past him, reaching out for the vanishing forms of Germany and Jack. “Wait! Jack!”_

_So….this is what it was huh?  
A game of tag._

_“Why? Why did you leave?” England cried out desperately as though the answer wasn’t obvious. Jett felt nothing for the man that chased after him now, there was a strange emptiness in his chest where he used to feel things for his former brother. He did not know when that gap had formed but he now had to live with it._

_And so he felt no guilt in saying the next words as he walked past his running brother.  
“Go your own way.”_

_Even as he spoke the words Jett’s hand clutched his necklace tight.  
Was that his real answer?_

…  
...  
...

Jett woke up in a familiar fashion, panting and struggling for air as his body shuddered violently. However he did not wake up with the familiar person by his side to comfort him, Chris was nowhere to be found that morning.

“Jett? Did you have a nightmare?” Jett was surprised by the tenderness of the voice by his side. When his green eyes looked back over his shoulder Jett found himself looking up at a frowning Germany. Some part of Jett understood what he _should_ have felt; anger, fear, and a need to escape but oddly he felt nothing of the sort. When looking at Germany that morning Jett simply felt…numb, as though all his will to escape his big brother had just faded away.  
Was this the effect of vital region claiming?  
It still hurt…a lot.

“Yeah…” Jett answered dryly, hearing the feebleness in his own voice as it cracked under the strain of speaking. When he tried to sit up he was met with similar results, groaning and falling back flat in the bed as an unfamiliar burn resided in his back side, he did try not to think about that.

“Easy.” Germany chided him in a soft tone. “Your body will need some time.” Germany’s hand rested on Jett’s forehead gently causing the other nation to lash out.

Jett’s hand whipped out at Germany, slapping his hand away harshly. Jett didn’t seem to realise he’d moved at all in the first few seconds after the action had been carried out. Leaving both nations to stare at one another in a state of shock.

Germany recovered first, shock turning to anger as the hand that was slapped away balled into a fist. When Jett’s mind caught up with the rest of the world his shock turned into immense regret and dread. The hand that had pushed Germany away now covered his face, defending his head from the blow that he knew was going to come.

“Jett.” Germany’s voice came out in an impatient growl.

“I’m sorry!” Jett cried out before Germany could continue. The German was taken off guard by the hastily cried apology.

“I-I didn’t realise. I didn’t think it was you. I…didn’t mean to...” Jett murmured his defence meekly but Germany was no longer angry. If anything he was pleased.

“Did you think I was England?” He asked calmly while watching the smaller nation curl in on himself anxiously. “So you did.”

Jett was damn near trembling, afraid that Germany would punish him for acting out or confusing him with another person. So he was understandably surprised when gentle hands took hold of his body, embracing him in a strange sort of hug.

“Now, now.” Germany cooed in his ear. “Don’t hide from me, Jett.”

At first Jett didn’t know what to do. He was not used to a situation where he’d receive a hug instead of a hit. Had he not earned another lesson? Why was Germany holding him after he misbehaved?  
All of it confused Jett and eventually he found himself clinging to the other, unaware of how much he’d longed for some kind of comfort until that moment.

“Last night was rough on you. Punishment should be tough, however I am reasonable and not without consideration.” Jett listened in silence as Germany spoke gentle words. “Mistakes happen. I understand. Do not hide from me as you would England.”

Gradually Jett’s eyes slid shut as he took all he could from this comfort. It was unnatural, he knew it was but somehow this felt nice. He could not remember a time where England had let him off the hook or had held him after a lesson. It was still painful but it was strangely warm too.

Germany allowed Jett to have his fill of the small display of affection, allowed the time required for the reward and punishment method to do its work. Ludwig was well aware of the damage he was going to an already unstable mind but he felt no guilt or remorse as of yet. However Jett winced as the pain in his backside began to grow to the point it couldn’t be ignored.

“Ah, sorry.” Germany murmured and released Jett. “It must be painful, ja?”

Jett nodded, somewhat dazed as he remained limp, only help up in the sitting position by Germany’s arms.

“I’ll make some wrust if you feel up to eating.” Germany offered casually, acting as though absolutely nothing had changed between them the night before. Wasn’t this a little bit unnatural? Chatting normally like this?

“Sausage for breakfast…?” Jett croaked, aiming for the same natural air Germany had. His aching body and ragged voice didn’t help his attempt.

“It’s not unusual for you is it?” Germany asked with a lifted eye brow. “I have seen the contents of your fridge, I very much doubt wrust for breakfast is much of a stretch.” Well he had Jett there. “Also, it’s midday, I allowed you to sleep late.”

“On that note.” Germany spoke thoughtfully pressing a hand to his chin. “Your diet will need to be revaluated.”

“What do you mean?” Jett asked in disbelief. Germany whipped around to face him again, pointing a firm finger in his face with a stern expression.

“It’s atrocious. Almost as poorly thought out as that American’s fast food diet!” Germany had switched into lecture mode. “All beer and strange tasting spreads. That tar like substance is not good for your body, it’s a bi-product for gott’s sake! Mein gott, something green or at least naturally grown should be in your diet.”

“What about Witchetty grubs?” Jett asked with a faint smirk. “Grown from the dirt, all natural.”

“ _Nein_!” Germany barked, arms slamming over his chest in a cross, denied. Sighing heavily Germany fixed Jett with a scolding look.   
“Starting from today I’ll manage your food intake. No more Chiko Rolls or vegemite on toast or bix wheat! Your food is so dangerously spontaneous, I never know where it comes from.”

“Weet-bix.” Jett corrected before frowning. “Well what about Pavlova? It’s something even the frog would approve of.”

“That’s from New Zealand.” Germany reminded him flatly.

“Pig's arse!” Jett snapped, sitting up straight in bed in a furry. Unaware that his choice in cursing may have confused Germany.  
“It’s mine! I invented it before that sheepshagging little- _urk_!” Jett’s rant ended fairly quickly as his body screamed in agony at the sudden movement.

Germany’s hand rested on his shoulder, holding his body as it shuddered in pain. A crease formed between his brows as he looked over Jett with cautious concern. He should have known better than to rile him up with New Zealand and Pavlova.

“You’re going to be in pain for quite some time, do not push yourself.” Germany advised gently.

Jett knew he was right but it was not so much the pain that bothered him but the lack of it. He’d expected his arm and hand to hurt, to respond with the pain that his little brother must have been feeling but he felt absolutely fine – at least there. When he tested his hand the fingers opened and closed normally and his shoulder moved in all the right ways. It had been bothering Australia for some time, as to why he couldn’t feel the pain Chris did. He’d always felt it before.

Was Chris rejecting him even on this level?

The thought caused Jett’s hand to clench down on his necklace tightly, trying to reassure himself that Chris would never truly reject him. This was just some type of rough patch. Germany would fix it….Germany fixed everything.

“My brother…” Jett murmured, trying to force his voice out more strongly this time, not wanting to appear weak of both mind and body. “…how is he?”

“Christian?” Germany’s voice sounded strange when speaking his brother’s name.

Jett flinched as the weight on the bed shifted causing the spring to creak softly as Germany pressed a hand down by Jett’s head, hovering over him. Turning to face the larger male Jett felt that familiar spark of confusion. He knew he should be afraid or furious that Germany was so close but he just felt _nothing_. No fear or anger, just a strange comfort.

“Why do you ask?” Germany asked slowly, sizing up Jett’s intentions. Ludwig had hoped that after Jett’s vital regions had been claimed he’d be a tad more compliant but he was still cautious with his new nation.

“Can’t feel him.” Was Jett’s meek reply. “I don’t…feel anything. Worried.” It was as though some of his brain had shut down, all he could form was simple words that didn’t require much effort. Any more than that and his voice would stop working and his mind would go blank.

“I see.” Germany replied smoothly, rapidly forming up a response to this that would work in his favour. “It’s most likely because you two are not one.”

Jett’s eyes widened just a fraction but his gaze still seemed faraway and disjointed from reality.

“Not one…?” He repeated dumbly.

“Ja. Australia is divided right now so it’s only natural that you’d not feel anything.” Germany explained calmly, easily shifting Jett’s concern, easily manipulating the somewhat broken country into thinking his way. “It would be best to fix that, ja?”

“Nightmares.” Jett said abruptly sitting up, ignoring how his body screamed its furious protests at him. Pain slammed against his chest and crawled up his spine, almost paralysing Jett but concern kept him moving despite his body’s whining.

“Jett!” Germany was alarmed by his nation’s sudden movement, having expected him to be bed ridden for at least a day after his reconditioning. However Jett had always been a surprising country.

“Nightmares, nightmares, nightmares.” Jett kept uttering the word rapidly as he fumbled with the simple action of rising from a bed. His body swayed and tipped to the point of very nearly falling with every staggering movement he made but Jett continued to move towards the door – towards what he hoped was his little brother.

Eventually his clumsy steps took one wrong step too far and Jett collapsed. Thankfully Germany was vigilant and easily caught the light weight nation, he noticed that Jett already seemed physically lacking as though he’d not eaten in weeks and he seemed deranged and feverish. Perhaps his reconditioning had been the harsh on the first run around. But punishment was punishment, Germany would not apologise for his rough education.

“Chris…will have nightmares.” Jett gasped while clinging onto Germany’s arm for support. “If I can’t feel him I can’t take those bad dreams away, I can’t take his unhappy memories away.”

Ludwig’s eyes narrowed in understanding. He’d heard it before, that Australia had his ignorance and innocence guarded by his big brother at all times. He knew only Jett would go to war and that only Jett would do the things that needed to be done while Christian was free to live life as he pleased. Apparently the divide between them now scared Jett, he was afraid he’d lose all that he’d worked so hard to keep safe in his brother’s mind.

Germany could use this.

“Well.” He purred. “We can’t have that. Come, if your body is willing I will take you to your baby bruder.”

Jett’s eyes lit up slightly at that and Germany was a little irritated by the spark in his new brother’s gaze. If he was not cautious that spark may eventually become rebellion, he had to remove all doubt from Jett’s mind and completely win Australia over. Force would only get him so far so it was time to use something a tad more subtle.

It would not be hard to have Australia back himself into a corner and then he’d be trapped.  
He’d completely belong to Germany.  
With just a little more…  
One more push.

And Jett would crumble.

 

…  
...  
...

 

_UK Meeting_

 

“Sit down you wanker!” They were getting nowhere. A whole meeting and no progress for their trouble.

“Sit down yourself tosser.” Ireland replied tauntingly.

England was going to lose his mind. He’d called a meeting in the UK to try and figure out what course of action to take in Australia but so far all they had to show for it was the usual arguments and petty complaints. Having his brothers with him did not help in the slightest, in fact it upped the arguing by a million.

America was next to useless, too busy planning out some kind of hero plan that would be rejected unanimously the minute he put it up to the UK. Canada kept fading in and out of the back of England’s peripheral vision – which was already limited as it was by the loss of an eye.  
France either spent his time talking with Scott or disagreeing with England and both China and Russia seemed content to keep well out of the entire thing. Naturally none of the axis had been called, on the off chance that they were aware of the situation and in favour of Germany’s side.

It was shaping up to be a real war and the sides were already being clearly divided.  
Like old times.

“I don’t see why we should do anything. Western nations have nothing to do with me and if Japan isn’t involved why would I do anything?” China asked, irritated by all the arguments and indeed by the entire point of the meeting.

“We don’t know if Japan is involved or not.” England responded dryly. “I didn’t call you here to order your help, merely to ask for it.” Asking alone made England feel dirty but it had to be done.

“Ah.” Russia smiled in that creepy way as he pointed a single finger in the air. “But you’re not asking for our nations are you?” His smile grew slightly. “You want us, da?”

England shifted about uneasily, no more comfortable around the large nation than anyone else. At least when Russia spoke he did seem to make the others settle down somewhat.

“Yes.” England clarified finally with a sigh of defeat. “We’re not trying to start a war. I want to keep my nation and by extension all of your nations well out of this. As far as I am concerned this is a domestic quarrel, not a national dispute.”

“Why would Russia help in domestic dispute?” Russia asked, smiling pleasantly. “No thanks, I want to stay out of it like China.”

“Why you commi…!” America snapped, still sore towards the Russian for past…disagreements.

“America!” England snapped firmly. “We are _asking_ , if they refuse that is just how it is.”

“But they…” America struggled with trying to stifle himself, he had no fondness for the two commies and their rejection to help only increased his frustration.

“Well…” England and America turned at the sound of Russia speaking again. “Maybe not?” He said thoughtfully.

“What?” China looked at the male next to him in shock. “Why would you help?” He demanded furiously. “We agreed not to!”

“Nyet.” Russia smiled again. “Russia was thinking, perhaps it might be more fun to help Germany, da?”

You could have heard a pin drop after that.

“What?” America spoke in a low growl and even England’s brothers had stopped their chatting as the tense atmosphere reached past even their thick skulls.

“More fun.” Russia responded simply. “If this is – as you say – a domestic disagreement then is harm in playing.”

England grit his teeth understanding what the Russian bastard was getting at. Unless this was to become a war Russia was free to do whatever he liked as a game. As long as England refused to declare an actual war between he and Germany or made a move to reclaim Australia there would be no repercussions for Russia toying with them. He had been the one to say he wanted their assistance as individuals not countries.

“I’m not interested in childish games.” China huffed crossing his arms indignantly.

“China is no fun.” Russia complained, completely ignoring the hostility he was getting from the surrounding nations.

“Well.” Russia announced standing from his seat smoothly. “Russia is going home.”

“I concur. I’m going back.” China agreed standing up after Russia though he seemed to work on keeping a good distance between the two of them.

“Hey. Hold on a damn minute!” America leapt right back up despite England’s efforts to keep the unruly nations still.

“Hmm?” Russia turned back still smiling but the look caused a cold chill to fall over the room. “Something wrong?”

“Are you going to just up and leave after saying that? Are you trying to pick a fight with me you commie bastard?” England groaned internally, wishing America had a little bit more sense.

Russia still smiled but the air around him dropped into a sharp chill, almost as though he’d brought his countries weather with him. England could see the purplish hue that hung around Russia’s body, it came with the ability to see his magical friends and it made the situation all the more tense for the British man.

“America please.” England implored America to sit back down before real trouble was to come about.

“No way!” Alfred snapped back at Arthur. “This guy is pushing our buttons on purpose.” He accused furiously.

“That’s right.” Russia responded happily and Arthur shuddered, grabbing hold of Alfred’s arm tightly before hissing in a low whisper.

“Think about this. If you start a fight with him now what good will that do anyone? If anything you’ll only make getting to Australian all the harder. Let it go. You can argue with him when world war three starts. Got it? Use your head for once.”

Alfred gritted his teeth and Arthur could see the young nation struggling with the choice but ever so slowly he eased back down into his seat, seething and glaring as he did. Sighing England turned back towards Russia and China.

“Thank you for coming today.” He said farewell to them properly and showed them to the door. “It’s a pity you could not assist us. I do hope America did not offend you at all.”

“Hmm? Not at all.” Russia smiled that god damned smile again and tipped his head to the side. “Russia is looking forward to being home, might make halfway stop.”

Arthur blinked, unsure as to why Russia had said that. Russia turned away and began to leave allowing Arthur to breathe a sigh of relief but his blood turned to ice with the next words to leave his mouth.

“Germany’s house is just on way back to Russia’s place.” It was an offhanded little comment that Russia made and Arthur had no time to respond before the door swung shut.

Arthur was frozen, staring at the now closed down with wide eyes. They were ruined, absolutely buggered.

“Yo, dude? What ya staring at the door for?” Alfred asked, having followed Arthur.

“This is entirely your bloody fault!” Arthur snapped furiously. “Why did you provoke him? Now we have to deal with Russia as well!”

Alfred tensed before gritting his teeth together and balling his hands into tight fists, it wasn’t America’s nature to take blame or criticism well.

“Hey! He provoked me. That commie always preferred the nazi bastard…!” Alfred began to argue but Arthur was reaching the end of his rope and wouldn’t have any of it.

“That’s no excuse! War time grudges and bigotry is never an excuse for this childish behaviour!” Arthur shouted at Alfred, frustrated that he always fell back on past prejudice, all the bloody time. “Why can none of you just do as you’re told?”

“Stop treating me like I’m a child. England you can’t keep looking down on me.” Arthur was sick and tired of that bullshit argument, he was so sick of his little brothers telling him that.

But…it was his insistence on fighting against them that got them into this situation. Arthur’s shoulders dropped and he let out a heavy hearted sigh, all the fight just leaving him. His arguments were wasted here, his efforts were wasted here and he should be focused on the problem at hand – not arguing with America again.  
They’d argued for decades.

Seeing Arthur pull back from a fight made America pause and then he sighed as well. They were all understandably stressed and they all seemed to be tearing around the edges. Arthur had to be more tolerant and Alfred had to be more cautious…it was going to be a rough road.

“Alright I got it.” America declared, putting his smile back in place as he jerked a thumb towards himself.

“Got what?” Arthur asked warily.

“A plan of course!”

“If it’s anything like project hero 1 through 28 I refuse.” Arthur replied bluntly.

“Hey! My hero plan was perfect in the first place! You’re just not awesome enough to see it.” America pouted.

“Please don’t speak like Prussia, I don’t need this right now.” Arthur muttered, feeling a headache growing.

“Hmpf.” America’s face twisted into a smug grin and Arthur watched on in bewilderment as he whipped out a phone. He pressed the device close to his face with a wicked smile and winked.

“Funny you should mention that. Our secret weapon and our new plan.” America announced, confidence overflowing from his tone alone. “What do you think Iggy? Going to be unawesome and reject my plan again?”

“Well I say…” Arthur gradually smiled though it was a little spiteful seeing as he was acknowledging America’s good work. “Perhaps you’re not such a useless fat ass.”

Arthur was feeling more confident now as he walked pass America and back to the meeting room, they finally had a foot in the door and if all went well they’d be able to finish this without any direct conflict. All he had to think about now was how to approach Jett once he was safely back home.

America grinned when his plan was approved of….before that insult sank in.

“HEY!”

  
…   
…(Back to Russia….oh I mean Jett. *Shifty eyes.* )  
…  


_Jett’s off his rocker_.

 

Ahh, Chris looked happy.  
That was good.

Jett felt a smile form on his face as he watched Zea and Chris chat, they seemed to be having fun talking about the beach or something of the sort.

Germany was by his side, keeping his standing up right with a constant but somewhat invisible support. Jett had been able to walk most of the way here with only a few trips and stumbles. Germany had praised him and helped where he needed it so Jett didn’t feel the least bit discouraged by his unsteady body.

When he’d greeted Chris, his little brother’s face had lit up like the sun and Jett had smiled in return but for some reason his face felt tense and numb and smiling something like an impossible task. Still he’d tried to smile back the way Chris smiled at him. It must have come out wrong because Zea cringed.

It was only when he’d hopefully asked if Chris was ready to join him again that his brother’s smile had dropped straight from his face. Jett recoiled slightly seeing that unwelcoming expression on Chris’s face. His heart almost stopped seeing the outright rejection on Christian’s face.

Why would he make a face like that? Didn’t he want to be together like before?

“C-Chris.” Jett tried to smile again though it was a shaken expression. “Come now don’t be difficult. You’ll get used to living here, it’s much cleaner and larger than our shack, you’ll get used to it I swear.”

“We’re not leaving?” Chris asked slowly, sounding disappointed.

Jett tensed, feeling a gentle pressure against the small of his back. Germany’s hand was gently pressed against him, if it was in comfort or warning Jett was uncertain and all he knew was that there was no way they’d be leaving one way or another.

“No, we’re going to stay here – with Germany.” Jett said patiently, trying to ease his brother into this change. When Chris did not respond Jett’s eyes travelled to his body, it seemed he was still in quite a bit of pain but Germany had done an amazing job patching him up –he expected no less of Germany.

“How are you feeling?” Jett asked in a conversational tone, walking closer to the bars that separated them. Once Chris understood this was their home he’d be able to remove those bars. “Still sore?”

Chris ended up averting his gaze and Jett noticed how he grabbed hold of his bandaged hand tightly. It must have been painful….Chris must have been in pain.  
His little brother….was hurting.

An unbearable heat rose up in Jett’s body and he reached forward to tightly clasp the bars of the cage.

“Why are you denying me? Christian!” Jett demanded, hands tightening around the bars. “Do you think I enjoy this? Seeing you suffering like this? Stop rejecting me and I’ll take all that away from you and you’ll be happy again right? You know that, _right_?”

Germany hovered close, not intervening but keeping a careful eye on Jett as he didn’t want the still weakened nation to collapse or cause himself further damage. While he watched Jett Germany also noticed New Zealand watching him with quietly loathing eyes. New Zealand needed more training than either of the Australians.

“Oh I get it…” Jett muttered lowly. “You’re punishing me aren’t you Chris? Haha…I get it, I know I hurt you a little and I’m sorry. So knock off this act and let me help you. Stop pushing me out and punishing me like this.”

“I’m not…” Chris murmured in a small voice. He didn’t like this version of his brother, he looked like he was standing on his last feet and was far beyond the point of reason. It looked like his big brother had completely gone off the deep end with those crazed, desperate eyes.

“Christian!” Jett barked in a furious voice, hands rattling the bars. “This stubbornness will get you nowhere. I hate it, I hate seeing you in pain. So please, please just be a good boy and let me in.”

“I can’t!” Chris finally snapped back, seething as he listened to the elder speak. It wasn’t Jett that made him angry, it was the silent German behind him. It was the fact he’d not realised how bad things had gotten until it was already too late.

“Mate, would you just listen to yourself for five fuckin-“ Chris stopped, just…froze.

He looked at his brother more clearly now, he could see marks on him. Rings around his wrists from where he’d been bound and fresh bruises from where he’d been touched roughly. At first he thought Jett had been beaten but as he studied his brother more closely he could see the strangeness in these marks and all too suddenly it dawned on Chris what it was that was off about Jett –ignoring how bat shit, raving mad he was.

“You!” Chris snarled, rage filling him and causing the usually carefree Australian to snap like his big brother. His narrowed green eyes landing on Germany as his brain pieced together what had been done to his big brother.

“You fucking…” Chris began to snarl but his words were drowned out by the loud screech of the cage door swinging open. Chris just got a glimpse of Jett standing in the doorway before a body blocked his vision.

Standing in front of him, guarding the injured Australia, was his little brother. Zea stared at Jett or rather the shell of Jett with about as much loathing as he did Germany but Jett was not upset. His brothers were simply being stubborn children.

“Chris, you’re behaving poorly. We’re guests, mind your manners.” Jett spoke calmly as he walked towards the two of them and both could see how their brother’s body stumbled and tipped from side to side. Alone he’d not be able to handle even one of the younger nations but Germany remained a constant threat lingering by the door.

“You sound like England.” Was the first thing that came to Chris’s mind.

The reaction was instantaneous, Jett’s face twisted into a furious mask of rage and he stopped walking towards them with fists balled by his side. Chris regretted his words but he could not retract them.  
Thankfully the tenseness seemed to leave Jett’s body after a moment to calm himself down and he smiled to his two little brothers again.

“Sorry, did I frighten you by sounding like that man?” Jett took a step forward but stopped abruptly when he noticed the defensive position Zea took and the glare he held towards him. Jett grit his teeth seeing New Zealand standing between him and Chris, he was being a problem.

Jett vaguely remembered Germany telling him that New Zealand was sent by England and therefore and enemy. He’d ignored Germany at the time but now he saw clearly, New Zealand was an enemy, one standing between him and Chris.

“You’re in the way.” He said coldly. “Get out of my way, Zea.”

He got no response for his words. That was fine, Jett wasn’t contemplating letting it slide anyway.  
Without another word Jett raised his fist and with one quick swipe of his arm he threw Zea from his feet with a solid blow to the face. Even with his injured boy Australia threw one hell of a punch. The smaller nation slid to a stop on the ground not too far from the two Australians.

Jett looked down at Toby as he tried to get back up and for some reason he felt…guilty? Jett was taken off guard by this feeling but still it persisted, making it impossible to ignore the growing red mark on his little brother’s face. As he looked at New Zealand he couldn’t help but remember how they’d originally met. Toby had glared at him back then to.

 

…(Roughly 1841 to 1891)

_Meeting Zealand._

_“What…?” Jett found himself staring at…something kinda strange. Standing before him and his friend was an entirely new person. An entirely new nation in fact. The boy looked roughly the same age as Jett and his native friend but he did not possess the aboriginal’s dark skin or Jett’s harsher features and build. The fair haired boy only shared their green eyes and eye brows._

_“Who…are you?” Jett asked the boy uncertainly, he felt as though he should know this person…as if they’d known each other for a long time and he’d simply forgotten._

_Looking up at the two with narrowed green hues Jett couldn’t help but flinch from the glare in those eyes that seemed so out of place on such a sweet looking face._

_“New Zealand…” The words brought a wave of understanding over Jett. His bosses had been up in arms over this for weeks now. The island off of the main land of Australia had wanted to split from them and become their own separate colony. Jett hadn’t cared much himself but his boss seemed rather ruffled by the whole event._

_Clearing his throat Jett walked towards the younger colony, causing him to take a step back as though he did not trust the larger colonies intentions but much to his surprise Jack only held his hand out towards New Zealand._

_“Nice one, congratulations.” Jett spoke, trying to keep things formal but welcoming, finding that the polite approach was not his best trait but he tried all the same. “I’m Jack Kirkland, it is nice to meet you New Zealand.”_

_New Zealand could hardly believe what he was seeing, just like that he was being recognised as a separate colony by the other and so, even though it was slow and cautious, he reached out to take that hand._

_“Toby Kirkland.” The two joined hands and actually shared a small smile between them before suddenly a dark skinned arm wrapped around both of their necks, pulling the two into a three person hug._

_“H-Hey! Hold on a second mate!” Jett cried and heard Toby shouting something similar but the native nation ignored them both with his bright smile and laughter. Eventually the three of them couldn’t help but respond in kind._

_Smiling and laughing the three were quite at peace with one another. The island prison that Jett had feared so much and been so lonely on….no longer felt all that empty._

_Things were still dark for the young colony, his home still hard to handle and unruly but slowly, slowly, things were beginning to become brighter and with both Zea and his best friend there was no reason for Jett to feel even a little bit lonely._

… (Guilt inducing flashback over.)

 

 _What the hell did I just do..?_ Jett flinched after realising he’d really just struck his other little brother.

“Zea I…” Jett moved towards the other ready to apologise but was cut short.

“What’s the matter Australia?” Germany’s voice asked calmly from the doorway, having been monitoring the situation up until then. He’d been pleased with the progress but now Jett seemed to be hesitating over striking New Zealand, that was not good. Had he not worked that kind of resistance out of him yet?

Jett did not respond, his eyes falling on Chris who seemed strangely effected by the sight of Jett striking their brother. The jolly nation was curled in on himself, gripping his head tightly. He grasped his hair so tightly that his injured hand had begun to bleed again.

Slowly Jett dropped down to his knees and wrapped his arms around Chris, holding him as one might when comforting a small frightened child. He gently removed Chris’s hands from his head, not wanting him to damage his body anymore than he already had.

“Ah, I get it.” Jett breathed out in understanding. “You got nightmares didn’t you? Because I was careless and didn’t keep a close eye on you, you got bad dreams didn’t you?”

As Jett spoke to him in a comforting voice Chris squeezed his eyes shut, desperately fighting to keep those images away.

“It’s alright.” Jett cooed gently. “I’ll take all that pain away again, just let me in Christian. Stop fighting against me and become one.”

“Do you even know what you’re saying!” Zea’s strained and angry voice demanded as he forced himself back onto his feet. “To become one with Australia? Do you have any idea what you are saying?”

Jett paused, he had the reply on the tip of his tongue. Of course he knew, he and Chris would be together again and that was the way it should be.   
Well…that was true but….

“How do you become one…?” Jett murmured more to himself than anything else, eyes wide as he began to realise what it really did mean.

“Ja.” Germany spoke coolly. “I taught you how to do it. Last night.”

“You fucking bastard!” Chris became violent as he snarled at Germany but Jett couldn’t process that at the moment.

Germany wanted him to…. To Chris? To Zea?  
Jett’s head began to ache and much like Chris had he curled in on himself.

“Germany…” Jett murmured quietly. “I won’t do it. I mean I can’t. Not to my brothers.”

With his head in his hands Jett could not see the irritated expression on Germany’s face. But the German did not push the situation much and instead said calmly.

“There is no other way to make you one as before if he rejects you. If it is too hard for you…I will do it.” He offered, naturally lying but it got the reaction he’d counted on.

Jett reached forward and grabbed Chris’s arm tightly, not realising he was hurting the other as he pinned him down, eyes wild as he stared down at his little brother. The two remained stuck that way for a while staring at one another as both seemed to try and come to grips with the insanity of this setting.

 “M-Mate…? What are you doing?” The thought that his own brother was considering raping him…. Well Chris couldn’t comprehend it at all.

“N-No I can do it…I can.” Jett murmured feverishly. “If he does it… I know it’ll hurt. I’ll be much kinder with you Chris.”

“Hey! Hold on one bloody minute!” Chris demanded as he began to kick from under Jett, only succeeding in hurting both of their damaged bodies. “You can’t be serious! Are you flipping mad?”

“It’ll be quick. After that everything will be fine, I promise.” Jett muttered in a monotone voice.

“Stop making promises you plan on breaking!” Chris shouted, terrified as his brother kept him down firmly.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Jett replied, sounding too broken to even defend his lies. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”

Chris grit his teeth together as he felt Jet’s hands begin to slide down his body. It was wrong, so very terribly wrong to be getting touched in this way by another man, his brother at that! Still his injured body allowed him to do very little as this nightmare began to unfold.

“You’ll love me after this.” Jett told him firmly. “Like you did before.”

“No.” Jett froze. “I won’t.”

There was an earth shaking explosion, wicked, arrogant laughter…  
….and then the ceiling collapsed in on top of them.

  
There went Germany’s basement.

 

…  
…  
...

Manipulation -End

 

 


	8. Negotiations

_Escape_

 

Everything came to a grinding halt, the explosion shook the ground they all stood on and not a moment later the first large cracks appeared in the ceiling of the basement dungeon, after that it all came falling down.

For a brief few seconds it was chaos, even within the scene nobody seemed to see anything that happened as large chunks of the house crashed around them. Chris quickly lost sight of Zea and Germany in the dusty haze, it was only because Jett was right by his side that he could still keep him in sight and even then it was scarcely more than a dark outline in the cloud.

“The hell?” Jett barely got the curse out before a particularly large piece of the ceiling landed between his shoulder blades, knocking him down and away from Chris who narrowly missed another large chunk of the house as it began to come down. As more rubble collapsed down on top of them dust billowed out into the small space, choking Chris and blinding him as he tried desperately just to see where he was.

Very quickly room was becoming hard to move in, with every large chunk that fell down Chris’s area of movement became smaller and he feared that he’d end up buried in the falling debris. Coughing violently Chris tried to cover his mouth and nose to keep out the dust but it invaded ever crevice it could find and keeping it out proved almost impossible. Eyes, nose, lungs, everything was filled with the dusty powder.

Forcing one eye to inch open Chris looked around for a way out as the world became a tightly packed maze of wooden beams and rubble. Off to his side Chris saw Jett struggling to get back up, it looked as though he’d been hit pretty hard by that first falling rock. Despite the obvious danger he seemed to be looking for something on the ground. It was then Chris noticed up above him another part of the ceiling was beginning to give away, with Jett right under it Chris knew his brother would be buried if it caved in.  
Behind his sleeve Chris tried to speak up, only managing to chough a few more times before actual words would form.

“Ma-Mate!” He hacked out and it was just a second too late. Jett glanced up through the haze to see his little brother shouting a warning his way but the single beam holding up the mountain of rubble gave away and it all collapsed onto Jett. In less than a second his brother was lost from view under the mass of wood and stone.

Chris shouted out and even tried to move towards that area but a firm hand on his arm caught his attention. He couldn’t make out the person through the dust and watering of his eyes but they began to drag him, navigating their way through the chaos to what Chris could only hope was safety. Well actually his irrational brain didn’t hope for safety at all, instead he wanted to go the opposite way, back towards where he’d last caught sight of Jett.

With his already injured body and the strong grip of the person dragging him there was little that Chris could do to get back that way as he was pulled through the wreckage. Chris began to cough more violently, unable to breathe as the cloud of suffocating dust filled his lungs, making it impossible to get even a single breath of fresh air in. He was choking where he stood.

Thankfully his guide seemed to be able to breath just fine and while he stumbled and staggered around uselessly the one that held him was quick and strong. Before long they’d navigated their way out of the wreckage and out into the sunlight, providing Chris with a much needed breath of fresh air.

Gasping and hacking Chris collapsed to his hands and knees on the grassy ground underneath him. The sun was beating down on his back, a welcome gift of the outside world – Chris wasn’t a fan of dark and cold dungeons. Once he could at least successfully breathe in once or twice and ignore the taste of ash and blood in his mouth Chris turned back towards the house, seeing the gaping hole they’d escaped through, dust and rubbles still rolling out of it. Trying to stand Chris groaned and staggered but still he tried to get back to the house, knowing Jett was probably being crushed under all of that debris.

Before he could even take one competent step a set of familiar arms wound around his arms, pulling him back away from the house. The same person that had rescued him now prevented him from going back inside.

“Let…go!” He managed to wheeze while trying to fight out of the other’s grip.

“Don’t struggle!” Chris tensed, thinking it was Germany’s voice that spoke to him for a moment but he realised fairly quickly that the person holding him was much smaller than Germany.

Turning back he was met with a pair of frustrated red eyes and white hair, it took Chris a moment to register that Prussia was the one standing there.

“You look like shit…” Chris muttered quietly, seeing a few bruises on Prussia, it seemed he’d gotten a pretty mean left hook to the face.

“Don’t look too hot yourself.” Prussia responded dryly. Chris believed him too. Most of his body was in bandages and after that little scene he would be covered in head to toe with dust and cuts. Well, it wasn’t as though Chris had ever tried that hard to present well but this was a little bit ridiculous.

“I have to get back in.” He told Prussia angrily. “Jett is still-“

“Ja. I know, I got it.” Prussia gradually released Chris’s arms. “Stay here, with the little one.” He jerked a finger back at Zea who Chris hadn’t even taken notice in all of the confusion.

His younger brother lay on the ground panting heavily and clutching his leg tightly. He looked about as bad as Chris guessed he did, his fair skin blotched with dirt and his pretty hair flaked with sprinkles of black dust. His clothes were torn in places and Chris swore he could see blood on the grass around him.

“He got hurt.” Prussia said lowly while pulling a bandana back around his face and glasses over his eyes to avoid the dust. “Stay with him, I’ll get Jett.”

With that Prussia kicked off the ground, running back towards the house. As he did Chris looked at his brother, the young nation curled up tightly as he held his leg close. Slowly Chris stumbled towards Zea, more for lack of balance and strength than anything else.

“Hey there mate.” Chris coughed with a dry laugh, falling down on his ass next to New Zealand. “Got a bragging mark there?”

Zea gave him a scathing glare before uncurling slightly to show Chris his leg. Immediately Chris regretted having made light of his injured brother. Protruding from his calf was a rather nasty looking wooden stake. At a glance Chris could see nothing but the great deal of blood and the tip of the stake from his brother’s leg.

“Crikey, that’s a beauty.” Chris laughed rubbing the back of his head. “Something to write home about, eh Zea?”

“Shut up.” Toby growled, cradling his leg tightly.

“Right, right, I got ya.” Chris murmured looking closer at the damage to Zea’s leg. “Keep it in there, don’t got jerking it out. We’ll get an ambo or something kay?”

“I don’t think we can get one.” Chris hissed through his teeth, putting all his effort into not crying though Chris could see some tears budding at the corners of his eyes. “We’re still in Germany, if we got one here we’d end up back in a cell. Where is that albino joker with Jett?”

Chris tried not to laugh, his little brother was quite the snarly little thing when he’d reached his wits end. Usually he spoke sparingly and was quietly disdainful towards others but he was outright snapping right then and despite their predicament Chris was able to find humour in it.  
Neither brother snapped at the other about manning up though, both of them rather beaten from their little excursion to Germany’s place and instead the two focused on trying to remain conscious and breathing correctly.

Chris looked up when he heard footsteps coming towards them rapidly. For a brief moment he was afraid Germany had gotten out before Prussia and Jett but when he saw the figure coming towards him he found it was only Prussia.  
The male looked better off than both the down under boys though he shared a similar dishevelled look with dust clinging to his white hair and skin.

“We got to go, now, ja, now is good.” Prussia said hurriedly but was met with a small problem. Both Chris and Zea were battered to no end and he wasn’t strong enough to carry them both.

“Where’s Jett?” Chris demanded, noticing the distinct lack of a scowling older brother with Prussia. Frowning Gilbert shook his head impatiently.

“We don’t have time, I can’t get back in.” He glanced back at the hole, the thing being completely sealed off by the fallen rubble. “You two need to get out of here at the very least.”

“But Jett-“ Chris began to refuse but he felt a firm pressure on his arm. Looking down he saw Zea staring at him with a hard gaze.

“We _need_ to go.” Toby told him slowly, letting the order sink in.

Chris still struggled with it but he knew they had to. There was no way back in and if they lingered any longer they risked being caught again.

“We come back.” He said finally. “For now we bail out but we _are_ coming back!” Zea nodded silently before struggling to try and get to his feet…or foot. His injured leg was for all intents and purposes completely bloody useless.

“Hold up mate.” Chris ordered, hand on his brother’s shoulder. Zea obeyed, most likely because he couldn’t get up anyway.  
He watched in disbelief as Chris crouched down, putting Zea into a position in which he could piggyback on his brother’s shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Zea demanded as he was lifted off the ground, clinging onto Chris tightly so he’d not fall. “You’re injured idiot! Let Prussia carry me!” He didn’t want to be carried in the first place.

“Hah, no way.” Chris laughed as he tested out his balance and footing. After a little bit of deep breathing he was at least able to walk with Zea on his shoulders.

Prussia didn’t step in but he did carefully monitor their progress to make sure Chris had his support if he needed it while whipping out a phone and leading the way for them, away from the house.

“Why are you so stubborn?” Zea muttered as his arms wrapped around Chris’s neck. “You’re a walking wreck, why do you insist on acting this way?”

Chris grinned brightly as he carried Zea, who to him felt incredibly light being such a small nation when compared to his bulky older brother.

“As a brother it’s my job right?” Chris said simply. “You got hurt so I got to carry you back home. It’s as simple as that so pipe down.”

Zea became silent as he rest his head against Chris’s back. Unable to help but recall having been in a similar situation as children.

_“Stop complaining you big baby! If you hadn’t upset that dingo you wouldn’t have broken your leg. Now pipe down until we get home.” Jett told him crossly, a young Zea holding tightly onto his back and sniffling quietly._

_By the two brothers side the native boy walked smiling a sorry sort of smile. The three had gone on an adventure and it ended up with them all getting beat up pretty bad, it was Zea’s fault for pulling the dingo’s tail and tripping over the tree root when running away and for his childish behaviour he’d broken his leg._

_Jett and the native boy weren’t much better off, Jett was covered in scratches and bite marks from where he’d wrestled with the dingo to give Zea chance to escape and the native boy had a big bruise from where Toby had fallen on him._

Zea didn’t often think of the past as Jett seemed to but when he did he remembered times like that. Jett had carried Toby all the way home that day. His big brother didn’t stop for a break or complain about it he just carried Zea to safety while ignoring his own injuries. It seemed Jett had passed something good onto Chris after all.

“Hey, you right back there? You’re not going to sleep on me are you?” Chris asked and Zea bit into his shoulder angrily. Chris laughed and winced but was satisfied that Zea wasn’t going to pass out.

Prussia turned towards the two and snapped the phone shut with a satisfied grin on his face.

“Alright, get ready for an awesome plan ride.” He told them just as the sound of a plane roared on overhead and all three could hear the arrogant laughter.  
Zea and Chris made a face hearing that familiar sound and as they looked up there he was, waving enthusiastically from the side of a plane – America. That was all well and good…had he not been flying upside down at the time.

“No. Not getting in a plane when he drives like that.” Zea said bluntly and Chris nodded in agreement. Even Prussia looked a little sick just thinking about getting into the plane with that show off.

“Check out my totally awesome plane!” America shouted, oblivious to their hesitation as he waved. “Hero’s come to save you!”

“He might just kill us instead…” All three sighed. Time to try their luck in the plane ride of death.  
  


…  
…  
…

  
_Damage done._

 

 

 _Where is it? Where the hell is it…?!_   
Jett feverishly searched the ground while dust surrounded him and all kinds of materials cascaded around him, the occasional piece hitting him on the way down though he paid it no mind. All that mattered was that he found what he was looking for.

“M-Mate!” Jett just heard his brother calling to him and instinctively looked up from the ground he was currently burying his hands in. Chris stood on the other side on a great pile up of debris and was shouting at him, obscured by the clouds of dust that filled the slowly vanishing space.

That was the last thing that Jett saw before the world around him was swallowed up under a sea of rubble and dirt with the sound of Chris’s voice shouting to him echoing in the background.

…  
...

“G-Gott…damn…” Germany panted while pushing a particularly heavy metal bar off of him, it had no doubt been one of the bars once attached to the cell. During the falling of the ceiling Germany had been cut off from all of the others by a great distance, having narrowly avoided being smothered under the falling ceiling he was hit from behind by one of the collapsing cage bars.

When he’d eventually come around the house was still and dark, Germany knew instantly that they were still buried under the rubble and were trapped inside of the small pocket that the falling beams were able to keep uplifted. Lifting his head cautiously Ludwig looked around. The dust having settled slightly did little to help Ludwig’s sight with the lack of lighting in their underground setting. Small gaps of light could be found through the spaces between fallen beams and rubble giving Germany enough light to assess his situation.

It was not as bad as it could have been; his body did not feel injured anywhere in particular. Parts of him ached from where he’d been hit and trapped but other than that he felt nothing worth immediate attention. He’d come out with just a few scratches, good.

Germany had his own little space in the maze of debris, enough room to move and sit up right after removing the bar that had pinned him. He felt dirty though, his uniform would be ruined and he could only imagine how disorderly he must have appeared and even as he pushed his hair back a few strands refused to remain back. More than hurt or dirty, Ludwig felt angry.

Not for a second did Germany think this to be a freak accident, he’d heard it just like everyone else –his big brother’s laughter. Coughing some of the dust from his lungs Germany cursed Prussia, they’d had their differences and even had a falling out over this but he’d never thought Gilbert would go so far as to blow a hole in their house. There was no way he’d ever even thought of that as a possibility, who would!?

“The dummkopf, what if I’d been crushed?” Germany muttered gruffly while rubbing away the dirt from his eyes. Germany suddenly jerked up right, his own words jogging his memory.

“Australia!” He called out in the silence of the wreckage. “Australia are you there?” There was no response.

Gritting his teeth Germany began to shift himself up, pushing aside what loose rubble he could without bringing a mountain of the stuff down on him.   
If Prussia had blown a massive hole in their home it would not be simply to get back at Germany for their disagreement, he would have taken the three nations with him.

The worst part was that was the best outcome…if Prussia hadn’t taken them with him that would mean that somewhere under this chaotic mess Jett would be crushed. Germany felt his chest tighten painfully and he called out again, hoping for an answer.   
Again…there was none.

“Answer me, Jett!” Germany began to push past what parts of ceiling and wooden beams he could, searching what areas he could see for the Australian. The longer he went without answer the more frantic Germany became. He was sure that Jett was alive; if he’d died Germany would have known he was sure of that much. But if he was indeed still in the wreckage he wouldn’t stay that way for long.

And that scared Germany. More than it should have.

…  
...

Imprisoned under the mountain of fallen ceiling Jett lay flat, almost completely buried and trapped under many different beams of wood and metal. For a moment Jett didn’t even breathe but a soft and desperate cough signalled that he was indeed still alive.

Jett’s eyes opened just slightly, dirt and small stones falling free from his eye lids and lashes as they moved. At first there was only the distinct sense of fear as he tried to move but found himself completely immobilised. The world swam before his eyes, dark shapes moving back and forth restlessly as somewhere above him dust and small parts of rubble would occasionally fall.

There was water to, the slight trickle of the cold liquid slipping down past the jagged prison Jett was in. As he stared up at the only gap in his chamber and the only source of air and light Jett thought that it was very much like being in prison. Dazed and confused Jett lay still in his stone and metal prison, staring up blankly until fear took that stunned feeling’s place.

Again he tried to move his arms but found they were pinned down to the ground roughly, his legs and torso much the same. Breathing heavily Jett was aware that his body was probably more broken than before but he felt no serious pain other that the stones and splinters sticking into his trapped body.

“Jett.” There was a muffled voice frantically calling to him but Jett’s brain seemed to be rebooting and there was no way he was getting away from this one without a serious concussion at best.

As he lay there listening to the sounds of someone fumbling through the rubble Jett’s brain dimly registered it was Germany that was looking for him. What had happened to his brothers after he was knocked out, Jett had no clue but there was something else on his mind that was more important.

“W-Where?” He choked softly, straining his neck to look around in his prison to see if he could spot what he was looking for but in the darkness he could see very little.

“Jett? Where are you? Answer me!” Germany’s voice was stronger now, he was closer and Jett’s mind was also clearing up.

Looking back up towards the gap Jett tried to call out, his voice struggling to come out strong enough for an actual call to be made. He tried to direct Germany but he could only get out singular words while his air was restricted and so he simply called Germany’s name.

The instant he made the weak call, the sounds of desperate searching came to a sudden stopped, followed abruptly by rapid scrapping sounds. Jett listened as Ludwig made his way through what he could only imagine was more ruins of Germany’s basement.

Eventually there was a shifting of weight from Jett’s shoulders and when he peered upwards through narrowly opened eyes he could see the back lit figure of Germany above him. In the dim light he couldn’t make out the male’s face but he could hear his voice buzzing in his ears. He sounded frantic, worried and relieved all at once as he began to pushed rocks and rubble away from Jett. Little by little his body was unearthed until finally all that was left were the few beams that trapped his torso and arms in.

Germany had to strain himself as he worked of pulling the large wooden beam off of his chest. The very second it was removed Jett took in a large gulp of air and began to cough violently as his lungs filled up again. With a grunt Germany pushed the beam off to the side, letting it fall to the ground with a loud thud.

Jett rolled over onto his side, curling in on himself as his coughing and gasping continued. In an instant Germany was on his knees beside the choking nation, embracing him tightly as relief flooded through him. Jett came away alive if just a little worse for wear and he was still with Germany, everything was going to be just fine even if it seems they’d lost the other two.

“Thank gott.” Germany breathed quietly as he held Jett’s smaller body to his own firmly. Gradually Jett’s coughing subsided until he was breathing somewhat normally and stayed limp in Germany’s arms.

Jett opened his eyes again, feeling the familiar arms around him that kept his warm and safe. Had Germany really been worried about him…?  
But this wasn’t enough to consol Jett. As Jett’s breathing relaxed and his brain finished rebooting he was overcome with a sense of panic. Pushing away from Germany weakly – who released him only out of surprise – Jett immediately began to push away bits of debris on the floor as he desperately searched for what he’d lost.

Germany watched as the disorientated nation looked around on the floor, muttering rapidly to himself as his clumsy, shaking fingers desperately brushed away at the dirty floor. Standing slowly Ludwig continued to watched, unable to understand what it was Jett was doing.

“Jett.” He spoke the other’s name gently, taking a step towards him. “Come on, we should go.” He urged but Jett would have none of it. In an instant Jett was on his feet, whipping around to face Germany with a wide eyed expression, he looked deranged.

“No!” Jett barked furiously. “We can’t, we can’t leave until I’ve found it!”

“What are you looking for?” Germany asked, concerned about what shreds of sanity were left in Jett. “Whatever it is we’ll come back and find it.”

Backing up rapidly Jett refused to let Germany get any closer to him, refused to come away from his searching.

“I can’t leave. Not until I find my heart, I-“ Jett took another step back

 _Crunch_.

The soft sound of Jett’s boot meeting with something broken on the floor had the nation stop dead. Slowly his head dipped down to look at what he’d trodden on and as he nervously moved his foot away and seeing what was under him Jett’s eyes filled with agonised tears.

Barely able to stand with his trembling body Jett collapsed down to his knees and tenderly gathered up the shards of his ‘heart’. Germany watched as shaking fingers cautiously picked up each shattered piece of what appeared to have once been a necklace of some kind.

He was silent as he picked up the broken pieces but not for a second did the tears stop as he gathered them into his palm. Once he’d gathered all he could Jett held the handful of broken shards to his chest and Ludwig could only stare as his shoulders began to shake uncontrollably and the sobs became more audible.

He was muttering curses in with the incomprehensible sobs, whispering to himself as he desperately tried to put the pieces back together, when they only fell back apart in his hands Jett curled down into a little ball and screamed.

“It’s broken!” He shouted while the tears ran freely down his face and dripped onto the dirty floor. “It’s all I had left, it’s all I have. Now it’s broken!”

“Why?” He moaned in a breathless sob. “Why did this have to happen…? All I wanted…all I ever…”

Jett’s words began to break away into an indecipherable jumble of broken sobs of words. Over and over again he muttered the word ‘why’ and ‘sorry’, it was all Ludwig could make out of the broken man’s pleading.

As Germany stared at the break down happening before him he found himself walking towards Jett. The male did not shy away from him when Ludwig placed a gentle hand on his head and he did not pull back as he sank down onto one knee and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling the male to him as one would comfort a child.

The hand that did not cradle his ‘ _heart_ ’ was used to grip Germany’s dirtied uniform and with a small squeeze of permission Jett buried his face into Ludwig’s chest and continued to sob.

Ludwig could not pretend he understood what the broken item had meant to Jett, he could not being to imagine what it had once been but for just this moment it didn’t matter. For the first time since they’d met Germany did not feel any malice or have any other reason for holding the Australian other than the comfort him.

With Jett tucked into his chest Ludwig ran his fingers through the others messy, unkempt hair and murmured quiet nothings to him in Germany. Not for a moment did Jett understand a word being said to him but it didn’t really matter anymore. The soft stream of soothing words acted as a calming song to Jett and slowly his fingers lessened their grip on Ludwig’s clothes and he merely sat against the other.

As Jett’s strength began to leave him once more and the heavy sobs died down to quiet sniffles and whimpers Ludwig’s eyes drifted to his open palm where the remaining shards sat comfortably. With a cautious glance back at Jett’s face Ludwig saw he’d finally gone to sleep and so he was able to retrieve the shards from his palm without resistance.

In his own large hand the small pieces seemed even tinier and so Ludwig was cautious with them. Looking them over carefully he was satisfied that – while broken – they were all there. What he planned to do with those shards Ludwig was unsure himself.

He knew it’d make sense to discard them, if it was as Jett had called it – his heart – then there’d be nothing else left to break in the Australian. He was already so unhinged that really there was no need for any extra pushes but still it would remove the last scrap of sanity he had. Even so…Ludwig had decided against it. Without a word he slipped the shattered necklace into his pocket.

There was no need to decide right then, there were certainly more pressing matters to tend to. Most obviously he had to get this mess cleaned up. Looking around Germany sighed heavily, his basement and by extension dungeon was in complete tatters. It was going to take hours to just begin clearing out all of this mess.

“Germany~!” A worried kind of wail came from up above him. Craning his head up Germany found himself looking at the anxious faces of Japan and Italy.

“Are you alive?” Japan called down and Germany smiled bitterly.

“Ja, luckily.” He responded before looking around, the explosion had destroyed the stairs and it seemed however his brother and the other two nations had gotten out was now sealed off. He’d have to find another way out.

“How is the house?” He asked the two. “How extensive is the damage?”

“It looks fine up here.” Italy called. “But your basement went boom.” He added with a little hand gesture and Germany’s eye twitched.

“As if I didn’t already know that!” He snapped irritably before climbing to his feet, holding a limp Jett in his arms.

“Ah. Is that Mister Australia down there with you?” Italy asked brightly. “Is he staying over again?” Of course, Ludwig's house in shambles and Feli was thinking about sleep overs. He really couldn't be surprised by that sort of thing by this point.

“Ja. Italy, make yourself useful and get some food cooking, Japan help me find a way out.” The two nodded, one all too happy to go and cook and the other simply doing what had to be done.

With them off to make themselves useful Germany let out a wary sigh. The sound stirred the younger nation in his arms slightly and Ludwig glanced down to see Jett curling in against his chest again.

Despite himself Ludwig smiled faintly. Possession was one thing but at that time Ludwig almost regretted the actions he took against Jett….but sacrifice was necessary for his end goal. His goal….the reason he was doing this in the first place…

Why was he doing this again…?

For just a moment Ludwig had forgotten. He’d forgotten his hatred for the nations that scorned him and the reasons he’d stolen Jett in the first place. But it was only a brief hesitation on his part and he remembered fairly quickly…but for the time he forgot Ludwig did regret what he’d done. But most surprisingly he felt a vague sense of happiness.

Even if it was twisted and even if it was all a well fabricated lie Ludwig was pleased to have Jett with him.

Smiling bitterly Ludwig closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. If this had gone differently, if he hadn’t approached Jett as a tool then perhaps they may have been friends. He did remember a time as a child that he had watched Jett with some admiration. But even so friendship was unlikely given how far apart and standoffish they both were but…maybe.

“Guess we’ll never know now.” Ludwig muttered as he began to make his way through the wreckage towards what he knew was the house even if the way out was buried under the ceiling.

If Jett ever came to his senses he’d reject Germany and no doubt despise him.  After this, they’d never be allies. They’d never be friends as long as they lived.

And for some reason that made Ludwig’s chest ache.

 

…  
…  
…

 

_Plan Prussia Sucks._

 

 

“It’s a bloody fucking mess!” Arthur shouted furiously at both America and Prussia.

When Alfred had told him that Gilbert was in contact with them from the get-go and had a plan Arthur had assumed that it would be something stealthy, well thought out, _safe_. 

But,  _no_.  
Instead he got explosions, grievous bodily harm and to add insult to _massive_ injury they’d not even retrieved all three of his brothers.

Arthur was seething as he glared down at the two guilty looking nations. The two sat on their knees, heads bowed with hands in their laps as they received a furious scolding from the angry Brit. Prussia rightfully looked as though he’d been through an explosion. Arthur had cringed just letting him inside with how filthy he was but at the time they’d been a little more occupied with getting Chris and Zea to some medical attention. Arthur barely got a glance in before his brothers were whisked away to be fixed up.

So his frustration was focused solely on America and Prussia.

“And a plane?” He continued to scold them. “We’re trying _not_ to start a war, this is not the way to go about it!”

“Yeah but-“

“No buts!” Arthur cut across Prussia angrily. “And to make matters worse you’re absolutely filthy, all over my carpet and there was blood all over the….all over…” Some of Arthur’s fire was doused when he remembered the bustle of commotion when they’d first arrived home.

There was blood everywhere and it looked like both Zea and Chris were covered in it. He did not know the extent of their injuries but guilt continued to eat away at him.

He should have been more firm, insisted that Chris not go and never had let Toby go after his brothers to Germany’s. He should have done more to stop Jett, he should have gone himself when he got that call for help.

“Hey ah…” Prussia began awkwardly when Arthur began to look sullen. “Chris and Zea will be just fine. Chris is like some sort of bull, carried the little one on his shoulders like he was nothing!” Prussia exclaimed with a big grin. “Those two have a bit more of Jetty in them than they let on.”

Arthur glanced at Gilbert, he still wasn’t sure how he felt about Germany’s big brother. He and Jett had become good friends in a short amount of time, that friendship had both brought Jett out of his hiding and landed them in this situation but he could not blame Gilbert for it.  
Now the German male had helped rescue at least New Zealand and Australia…so thanks were in order for that much.

“Dude…” America whispered to Gilbert with a giddy grin. “That explosion was awesome.”

Gilbert and Alfred immediately began to snicker and grin between themselves, all too keen on the showy fireworks that had been their ‘Plan Prussia’.  
Arthur didn’t see what the fuss was about, it was reckless and only caused him to worry all the more.

“Arthur.” Francis appeared in the doorway, peering in at the three with a smile. “They’re awake if you want to see them. Christian is asking for you.” Even the frog’s accent couldn’t ruin Arthur’s delight in that moment. 

Though the delight came coupled with uncertainty. He couldn’t tell if Chris would be angry or pleased to see him. Clearing his throat Arthur fixed the two in front of him with a glare.

“No more heroics, no more planes, no more explosions. Understood?” The two nodded mutely with disappointed faces. “Good.”

With that Arthur joined Francis at the door and the two began to speak quietly between themselves.

“How are they?” Arthur asked quietly.

“I’ve seen worse but I’ve seen much better. Toby might not be walking for a while and Chris absolutely will not be moving today or tomorrow. Even with his country’s regenerative abilities.” Francis told him with a frown.

“Not moving? I thought you said you’d seen worse?” Arthur hissed.

“Oui, I also said I’d seen better.” France reminded him. “But most of Chris’s injuries are older ones, hopefully they’ll heal fairly quickly.”

“Older?” Arthur repeated slowly before remembering when he’d been told about Chris getting caught by Jett. America had said it sounded like there was a struggle.

“How badly did he…?”

“It’s rather nasty, even between siblings.” France admitted with a small sigh. “Really Artie, why do your children always grow up to be such ruffians?”

“Cram it frog. Not in the mood.” Arthur growled as he set off down the hall to see the two.

“Never are mon ami.” France replied with an annoying smile as he trailed after England.

“Oh, your brothers are already in there with them.” France added nonchalantly.

“What? Oh lord.” England groaned, he didn’t want those three causing him grief before he even got through the door.

“Well Wales couldn’t wait to see Zea.” Francis explained happily. “Rather cute really.”

“Didn’t I say cram it?” Arthur demanded before they reached the door and Arthur hesitated. France almost walked into him and began to complain before seeing the uncertain expression he wore.

“Go on.” He urged with a warm smile, sometimes they could be moderately kind to one another. “They’re waiting.”

“Yeah, I got it. Just…just collecting my thoughts.” As a nation Arthur had seen a lot of damage but recalling all the blood he wasn’t sure he wanted to see just how much damage there’d been this time around.  
With a steadying breath he took hold of the door’s handle and pushed it open.

Inside were all his brothers. Scotland sat by the window, smoking of course, but at least the wind caught the smoke and carried it away. At the end of Chris’s bed Ireland was sitting with his legs crossed the two laughing about something and by New Zealand’s bedside Wales sat with a worried smile as they conversed quietly.

Arthur was taken aback by the oddly civil setting. Some part of him as expected screaming and the throwing of various kinds of alcohol but instead his brothers were completely at ease. It may have been that they were acting considerate for Toby and Chris but even that seemed hard to swallow.

“Ah. You’re back.” Scot noticed them first and France made his way over to the other nation, their friendship having grown again in the time they’d spent together. There was still some history to sweep under the rug but the two got on well despite it.

Scot’s welcome – if you could call it that – got the attention of the other brothers. Wales glanced up and smiled at England but didn’t leave New Zealand’s be side. Toby also looked up at Arthur and he was surprised to see that the younger nation didn’t look all that bad. He’d been cleaned of dust and stones and still bore a few scratches and bruises but otherwise looked alright.

Zea noticed what Arthur seemed to be thinking and wordlessly pulled the blanket back from his leg, showing the massive amount of bandages that wrapped around his calf and the blood that had still managed to bleed through despite the wrappings. Arthur frowned and just gave a nod of recognition as Toby pulled the blanket back into place.

“You took your time mate.” Ireland and Australia were staring at Arthur and the two both shared a childish grin. Arthur was surprised by the warm welcome. “Didn’t think’cha could get lost in your own place, eh?” Christian asked cheekily.

“Please stop butchering my language…” Arthur murmured quietly, knowing he’d be unable to stop him.

“Whatcha mean?” Chris asked in innocent confusion.

“It’s what do-….oh never mind.” Arthur shook his head, having to let that one go. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I had wrestle and cranky croc. But you know how Jett can be, bull-headed as they come.” Arthur couldn’t understand how Chris sounded so nonchalant about the whole ordeal but perhaps that was a blessing. They had enough doom and gloom hanging around without Chris adding to it.

“You look a little worse than just that.” Arthur noted dryly. Chris might as well have been a mummy with all the bandages he was wrapped in. It didn’t look like any part of him was spared abuse.

“Well a ceiling did fall on my head.” Chris laughed before wincing. “Ah…right not allowed to laugh just yet.” He murmured with one last dry chuckle. “How cruel.”

“I was told you carried New Zealand.” Arthur asked though it was more a statement than question. “In your condition? That’s reckless, be more thoughtful!”

“Well Zea needed a hand, couldn’t leave him high and dry could I?” Chris smiled brightly. “That’s my little brother after all.”

“You’re too kind hearted.” Arthur sighed heavily. Even now Chris seemed to think of nothing but helping others and looking out for his brothers, no matter how mad they went.

“What happened?” He asked finally. “I got a call from Jett, he was asking for help.”

“Right after I arrived.” Zea spoke up. “Jett wanted to come home, said he’d thought it through and realised he was making a mistake.”

“So then why did this happen?” Arthur pressed on. “According to Prussia you two were locked up and he was on the outside.”

There was a chilly silence after that, Zea and Chris exchanged a look and Arthur noticed that Chris’s expression became surprisingly murderous.

“Well…the thing about that is...” Chris murmured quietly, all warmth gone from his harsh tone. “After he called here, he and Germany….”

Everyone remained silent, most having guessed what happened but for some reason Arthur couldn’t believe it until the words left Chris’s mouth. He really didn’t want to think of that, no matter their differences that was his little brother being taken in such a crude way.

Gritting his teeth together Arthur’s fists clenched and he worked on keeping his anger bottled up. Chris cleared his throat ignoring the look he was getting for Zea and continued, they got the idea there was no need to dwell on it.

“His head is all scrambled. He’s not entirely Australia so at the very least the country won’t be too badly effected but he’s about as sane as a rabid dingo.” Chris admitted reluctantly.

“If that’s the case.” England began cautiously. “Did he…I mean, did Jett try to…?”

Chris immediately came out with a bright smile and laughed. “Yeah, he gave us one hell of a beating. It’ll heal, nothing brothers aren’t used to.”

That wasn’t what England had meant but with Chris’s apparent ignorance at least it seemed Jett retained enough sanity not to try and claim his brother. He’d never guess that Chris was lying with that smile, it was just not in the Australian’s nature.  
New Zealand noticed it though and cast his smiling big brother a glare but thankfully kept his peace. For now.

“There’s no way he’s going to come back home on his own now.” Chris murmured, the smile falling off his face as he murmured the words of defeat.

“Yes I am well aware.” England murmured thoughtfully before Chris’s expression turned back to a glare.

“More importantly, he’s still back there!” Chris added urgently. New Zealand sighed, having obviously heard this a few times now. “I have to get back there already.” Chris looked as though he was preparing to move from his bed and almost every nation in the room jumped to stop him.

Luckily Owen was sitting between the two beds and was able to get one hand on Chris’s arm while Liam was able to hold down the other.

“You’re not going anywhere laddie.” Allistair told him while casually placing a hand down against Chris’s chest, the three of England’s brothers doing a fine job at stopping the young Australian from bolting.

“You’re in no condition to be doing anything.” Arthur began to remind Chris who only began to furiously shake his head, he was being surprisingly stubborn.

“No way, I’m going to sit my ass here while my brother is with that guy!” Chris snarled, having apparently grown quite the hatred for Germany. Understandable, considering recent events.

“He wants to come home, he wants to end this, really he does.” Chris tried to convince them. “I know my brother, he’s just a little messed up in the head right now.”

“A little?” Scot repeated with a lofted red, bushy brow.

“Well, a lot.” Chris amended. “But it’s only partially his fault, you know what it’s like with vital region claiming. He’s even calling that guy his brother I bet…” The words made Chris’s expression become sad and England tensed slightly.

It was as though a sudden understanding just dawned on England. It was obvious to everyone else in the room except him up until that point but…Arthur was a little bit blind when it came to his little brother.  
_Was he serious? Was that really what this was all about?_ England turned away, hand covering his mouth as the most obvious thing in the world dawned on him.

“I need to make a call.” He said quietly. “You two, not a finger out of that bed!” He ordered, pointing at the two bedridden nations.

Chris looked like he was already planning escape but Arthur got the thumbs up from his brothers, they would act as guards. New Zealand was a little bit more sensible but even he seemed unhappy about this, neither nation happy about being confined to bed.

“Tell ya what.” Scot said finally when it seemed Chris was still going to be difficult. “If you stay put for at least the next hour I’ll drag out some dirt on Iggy.” That did catch Chris’s interest enough to have him settle back into the bed and if England had not been so caught up on the absurdity of this situation he would have protested.

As Arthur left the room in a hurry Toby looked over at his brother with a questioning glance.

“What’s with the stink eye Zea?” Chris asked without returning his stare, the Australian could feel his brother’s gaze baring down on him.

“Why didn’t you tell him the truth?” Zea asked bluntly. “About Chris.”

“Do you think it would help?” Chris replied flatly. “Brother has enough on his plate without that to add to his guilt.”

“….England or Jett?” Zea asked and Chris just smiled.

“Take your pick.”

  
...  
…  
…

  
_Agreement._

 

Arthur hurried into the hallway and made a beeline back towards his office, intending to use the official business landline for this call. Thankfully none of his companions joined him as he swiftly walked through the halls.

All this time Arthur was well aware of Jett’s immense hatred for him and his complete aversion to being in close proximity to him after the mistakes of the past but he’d not realised the most obvious thing right before his eyes.

“Calls him brother?” Arthur repeated, spitting the words as he slammed open the door to his office. He was both fuming and filled with self loathing, how could he have been so blind to what it was that his little brother was craving.

He was stubborn, far too bull headed to admit to what he’d needed. Arthur had been convinced his attempts to reconcile with Jett had only pushed him further away and so he’d tried to keep his distance in hopes that time would mend old wounds. How could England have known that the distance only added to the problem?

 _How was I to know what it was that stubborn child wanted?_   
Arthur thought furiously as he snatched up the black phone on his desk, pressing the old style phone to his ear with a little more force than what was required.

 _How was I expected to know? I cannot read minds!_   
Arthur continued to justify his ignorance while hurriedly punching numbers into the phone.

“How was I to know you wanted me there…” Arthur whispered, pressing a hand over his eyes as grief and remorse over took him. How long had it been since the two of them had really been brothers at all?

His little brother who so violently opposed him had – once a life time ago – done all in his power to force his big brother to see him and had even begged not to be sent away. Arthur had been blinded by anger and grief back then at the loss of America he hardly even saw Australia. When had Jett began to so desperately desire a big brother that adored him? For how long had Jett been wishing for England to be the big brother he needed?  
Arthur couldn’t begin to guess but if he’d just known earlier, if he’d realised that he had to simply push a little harder to see his little brother…perhaps this could have been entirely avoided.

This had to end. This had to end right now and Arthur was prepared to take a risky move in order to ensure that this bloody campaign came to a conclusion. As he restlessly listened to the drowning ring of the phone echoing in his ear Arthur’s hand rest against his desk, hunched over in anxiety as he waited impatiently.

Finally there was an answer.

“Ah, yes. This is England.” Arthur said calmly, having gotten a worker. That was a good thing, he couldn’t have spoken calmly if the owner of the residence had answered.

“That’s right.” England laughed in a polite manner. “If you wouldn’t mind arranging that…ah…” England paused listening to the person on the other end.

Arthur gave a small sigh of defeat. “Yes…of course, I’ll speak with him.”

The phone went quiet for a moment as the other went off to fetch…Germany. Arthur had wanted to arrange this without speaking to the man but apparently there was no way around it.

“Ja, Beilschmidt.” Arthur frowned bitterly when hearing the male’s voice answer. He had actually not had any real interaction with Germany since this fiasco began and Arthur found that simply hearing the other nation speak now caused him a great deal of discomfort.

“Hello Germany.” England greeted dryly.

“England?” On the other end Germany sounded surprised, Arthur did not blame him. “What can I do for you?” That surprise rapidly turned to a flat and unwelcoming tone.

“I’d like to arrange a meeting with you.” Arthur spoke calmly, trying his very best to keep this professional, he couldn’t let Germany see how riled he was.

“About the return of your bruder I presume?” England bit his tongue to keep from spitting insults at the other and after a great deal of inner control England let out a heavy breath.

“Yes. I want to negotiate his return. I want to keep this purely between us, no involving nations or treaties. I’m in no mood to start a war with your nation.”

“I see.” Germany replied stonily. “We seem to have very different agendas.”

“You want to start a fight with me? That’s why you did all this Germany?” England snapped into the phone, his control slipping for just a moment.

“Naturally.” He replied, a smile evident in his tone. “I have no other reason for going to such lengths to acquire Australia other than to inconvenience you, Britain.”

“You….” England bit his lip and curled his hand into a fist, trying to keep from exploding. “If he means so little to you then return Jett to me. This game has gone too far.”

“I tend to agree.” England was surprised by that response. “I have quite the mess to clean up thanks to you. Come to my place and we will negotiate.” Germany offered reasonably.

“I have no intentions on letting my good work go to waste but the effort of keeping this one is becoming a little tiresome. Shall we say…tomorrow, at this time?”

“Tomorrow is perfectly acceptable.” England agreed, back into business mode for the most part. “I fully expect Jett to be in one piece when I arrive.”

“No thanks to your efforts, but yes I’ll have him in working condition. Oh and Britain.” Germany added and England could hear the mocking edge to his voice as he left England with one little parting note.

“He will not want to leave with you.” England scowled down at the phone but said nothing. “He’s quite comfortable being mein little burder. I look forward to our meeting Mister England.”

The phone went dead after that and England screamed in frustration.

 

…  
…  
…

 

Ludwig hung up the phone with a satisfied smile, it had been worth getting pulled away from his cleaning to have that conversation. England tried to hide his true feelings but as always he was rubbish at it, it sounded as though Arthur was very close to losing his mind. That was more than enough to put a lingering smile on the German’s face.

“Germany…?” Ludwig’s head lifted slightly, hearing someone calling him. When he turned Ludwig found Jett was sitting upright in bed, staring at him with a puzzled expression. “Something important?” He asked curiously about the phone call, cautious about prying into Ludwig’s business.

“Nothing worth thinking about.” Ludwig lied with a faint smile. Jett seemed oblivious to the conversation, that was good he may have gotten unruly if he’d heard what Ludwig had to say about him.

Leaving the phone Ludwig walked to the side of the bed, reaching down to gently press a cool had against Jett’s forehead. He didn’t seem to have that much of a temperature, only a little bit of a fever and nothing that a small amount of rest wouldn’t mend.

“Does anything hurt unbearably?” He asked while looking over Jett’s various bandages.

“Not really.” Jett answered flatly but his tone gave away a bit more than that. It sounded as though he’d never been in more pain though the greatest agony must have been in his heart. Germany had nothing to mend an aching soul nor the desire to try and fix Jett’s and so he settled for simply mending his body.

“Gutt.” Satisfied Ludwig removed his hand and stood upright. “For now stay here.” He was content to leave it at that but when Ludwig made to turn and leave Jett so he could return to his cleaning a rather unsettling noise stopped him.

 _Growl_.

Whipping around Germany reacted without thinking. Jabbing a finger towards Jett angrily he slipped back into old habits when he heard Jett's stomach growl.

“Du lügst! You’re starving. When was the last time you had anything to eat?” He demanded, used to fussing over Italy though he’d never had to remind the Italian to eat –more often than not he was telling him to _stop_ eating. Jett had the opposite problem.

“I…I don’t remember.” Jett admitted meekly. “Maybe the sleep over, when Italy cooked?”

Irritated with that answer Germany shook his head and crossed his arms, taking on a familiar displeased expression he most often wore around Feli.

“Do not move a muscle.” He ordered sternly. “I’ll be back with food in a moment and you _will_ eat all of it.” With that Germany stormed from the room, thinking very carefully on what he should feed Jett. He decided Kiku would be a good person to consult on the matter.

Japan had good advice about what to feed someone lacking nutrients and Jett lacked in a great deal of things in his diet. As Germany made his way to the kitchen he spotted Feli and Kiku, thankfully Italy had followed orders for once and was just finishing off dinner.

“Ah, Germany.” Japan turned to greet him. “How is he?” It took Germany a second to realise he was asking after Jett.

“Awake.” He reported simply. “But he hasn’t eaten in a while, starving by the look of it. How is dinner coming along?”

“Almost-a done!” Italy declared happily. “Hey, hey, will Prussia be eating to?” He inquired, obviously thinking about serving sizes and how much he would be allowed to eat.

“I highly doubt it.” Germany had to suppress the scowl he wanted to make, thinking of his troublesome brother brought up a few more issues he had to deal with. He’d gotten a brief call from Gilbert. It had consisted of.

‘ _West you alive?_ ’ The second Ludwig began to reply he’d hung up, apparently only wanting to make sure he hadn’t accidently murdered his little brother –how considerate of the arschloch.

“In mind of that, serve Jett more, danke.” Germany cleared his throat before turning to Japan. “Australia has a slight fever and is too scrawny, what would you suggest?”

“Ah, that’s easy.” Japan smiled and gave Germany a quick crash course in how to feed the Australian. He took it all in, taking notes down as he did. It annoyed Germany to do all of this but he had already decided that he would be the one monitoring Jett’s food intake earlier so there was no harm in starting off in the deep end.

“Ja, I got it all. Danke.” With that Germany turned away from the two and began to make the hot drink that Japan had suggested, all the while remaining very concentrated on making it to perfection.

He made sure that it would not be too hot to drink or tasteless. Would Jett like something sweetened? He seemed a little rough for sweets but given how soft he was inside he might just have a secret sweet tooth. More importantly ill people seemed to enjoy sweet and warm things so even if he disliked them normally it was likely he’d be grateful for it now.  
As he carefully calculated all this he was unaware of the other two watching him.

“Wow.” Italy piped up finally in his happy voice. “Doitsu is really worried about mister Australia isn’t he?”

Germany tensed in surprise and turned to look at his two companions who both seemed to be making fun of him.

“Hai. The crease in between his brows increased five times while thinking about sick Australia-san.” Kiku agreed with a quick chuckle.

“Ah~ Luddy has a new friend.” Italy chirped. “That doesn’t mean that he’s your new best friend right?” At the thought Italy’s arms began flailing and a whole range of gibberish and frantic cries left him, not wanting to be replaced or forgotten.

“Nein!” Germany barked, face heating up slightly at the accusations. “I simply don’t want him to be ill any longer. It’s nothing more than that.”

Had he really been so focused on Jett? Germany frowned when he turned back to the cup in his hands, looking down at the warm liquid and seeing his own uncertain expression.   
Sure it was true that when he’d discovered Jett was ill he’d taken great care to ensure he was comfortable in bed and when he realised how starved the male was he’d been furious…but that didn’t mean he was all that terribly concerned about the other. It didn't, right? Ludwig wasn't so sure anymore.

With a small shake of his head Germany tried to clear his thoughts. Jett was simply meant to act as a tool in revenge and when a tool got damaged or rusty it had to be fixed, that was all there was to it. Now if only Germany could make himself believe that. It didn’t matter in the end, he was simply being teased by the two and looking too deeply into it.

“Just give me his portion.” Germany demanded and for once in his life Italy didn’t disappoint. With a bright smile he presented Germany with a tray of hot food.

“I put extra in just like you said! Make sure Jett eats it all, pasta is good for you. Good for the soul.” Italy encouraged.

“I already planned to make him eat it all.” Germany confirmed, looking down at the overflowing bowl of pasta, at the very least there appeared to be cut up vegetables in there and a fair amount of meat. Germany would have preferred something a little bit greener but this would do.

Placing the mug down next to the bowl of pasta Germany took the tray from Italy with a slight nod of his head as thanks. He stopped by Japan who insisted that Jett take some vitamins as well.

“Mister Australia does not eat well.” Japan murmured with a frown, he and Germany thinking exactly the same thing. “But he’s a little more willing than America, so ask him to eat these for me.”

“Of course.” Germany agreed simply though he wondered just how willing Jett really would be to eat the pills. If it was Ludwig telling him to do it the male would likely comply but often Jett surprised him in stubbornness.

“It’s quite a chore…” Ludwig sighed heavily while speaking to Japan. “Australia is a handful.”

“I agree.” Japan smiled faintly. “But I am glad you brought him here mister Germany.”

“What?” Surprised by that Germany glanced over at his ally and by extension friend.

“Germany spent much of his time locked up in his office before didn’t he?” Japan noted. “But since you brought Jett home you’ve spent more time with him than staying secluded. Though…to be frank I see nothing wrong with wanting to be left alone.” Japan added, wishing he could have stayed cut off from most of the outside world in the past.

“Ja, I suppose I have… I miss not having so much to clean up so much.” Germany allowed and his friend merely smiled at him in that strangely knowing way before walking back towards Italy.

“Make sure you do not make a mistake, mister Germany.” Japan advised offhandedly. “Some things are hard to get back a second time.”

Pausing Germany glanced back at the strange nation, unsure of what it was he meant this time. Solitude or Jett, Germany hesitated a moment longer before deciding it was simply friendly advice and left to take Jett his food.

“Ah Ludwig!” Italy called, holding another bowl as the male vanished from view. “Uh…” Lowering the bow slightly Italy looked disheartened. “He didn’t take his own pasta…”

“Don’t mind him Italy, Germany is a little bit distracted at the moment.” Japan consoled the whimpering nation. “Let’s eat, your pasta will get cold.” Well nothing a little food baiting couldn’t solve.

As Ludwig took himself back upstairs he couldn’t help but dwell on the situation a little longer. He’d calculated every possible problem, he’d been careful not to act rashly even when invading the younger nation. Ludwig had watched cautiously how England and the other allies acted towards Australia and just how far he could push before things became out of hand and a true war broke out.   
Yes Ludwig had been careful in his moves, he’d planned ahead and had covered every possible problem…at the same time he couldn’t have possibly consider the idea that the problem would end up being his own thoughts and feelings.

It was not at all logical for any of this to affect him. Becoming emotionally involved was not a mistake that Germany was known to make, with perhaps the exception of maybe two…but even so it rarely hindered his common sense. So why now? Why was this only now bothering him?  
Perhaps he’d made a mistake, beginning this campaign based purely on his own personal emotions and now it seemed he might come unravelled by those same emotions. It was becoming a sticky situation and Germany didn’t like it.

Ludwig stopped out front of Jett’s door, trying to put his priorities back into order. An emotional attachment of any kind was expressly forbidden, it was his own fault for having become possessive of the smaller nation in the first place.  
“I will not be trapped into this.” Germany scolded himself quietly before a loud thud on the other side of the door startled him.

For a brief moment Germany’s logical train of thought was trampled by the sense of concern he felt hearing the sound, had Jett hurt himself?  
Slightly panicked Germany threw the door open and his concern turned to a slightly quizzical expression.

“What _are_ you doing?” Ludwig demanded as soon as he opened the door, it looked like Jett was trying to crawl his way out of the bed and only managed to end up halfway between the bed and the floor.

Jett twisted to look up at Germany with a sheepish, guilty expression on his face but he offered no explanation. With a frustrated sigh Germany set the food down on the bed side table and bent down to help Jett back up into the bed.

“What on earth were you doing, you’re still ill, or did you forget?” He asked while pulling the sheets back over Jett. “Why can you never just stay put?”

For a terrifying second Ludwig thought that maybe this was some ill attempted escape attempt on the Australian’s behalf. His caution was thrown out the window and a flood of unreasonable anger and fear welled up inside of him. He was intending to give Jett back sure but that did not mean he was allowed to try and escape himself! Just as Ludwig began to become insanely angry Jett spoke and dispelled his misplaced assumptions. In fact he was reassured scarily fast.

“Ah….” Jett frowned and looked away from Germany. “Sorry, I had a bad dream.” He admitted quietly.

Germany eyed the other for a second or so in silence, trying to size up what type of dream would have possessed Jett to try fleeing from the bed. A few ideas came to mind but he thought it best not to pry, Ludwig was merely set at ease knowing the other wasn’t trying to flee.

“Here.” Germany reached over and grabbed the tray, dragging the food onto his lap as he sat down on the edge of Jett’s bed. “Eat it all.” He ordered firmly watching Jett expectantly.

Jett seemed to regard Ludwig cautiously, even now he still retained some sense of uncertainty around Germany and it continued to agitate him. Germany found that hesitation was enough to spur his anger in some small amount. Swiftly he grabbed hold of Jett’s chin in a single large gloved hand and leant in close to him.

“Have you forgotten how to eat?” He asked quietly, allowing a dark tone to seep into his words. “Should I feed you myself Australia?”

“I can eat!” Jett snapped with a surprising amount of anger, he seemed so docile around Ludwig now days it was almost comforting to see he was still capable of anger in front of him. However the anger quickly shifted to an embarrassed expression.

“Please…not so close.” He added quietly, hands gripping at Germany’s wrist though he didn’t dare try pulling it away.

“Does it bother you?” Germany pressed on, somewhat amused by how uncomfortable Jett looked at the closeness of the other male. “Being this close to me?” His free hand danced lightly across the other’s stomach and he smirked slightly when he saw the way Jett tensed at the faintest of touches.

“W-Well…not really.” Jett lied meekly. “It’s just that…I have a fever and all what if you get sick?”

With a deep chuckle Germany released the smaller male and sat back into his original position, seeming in a much better mood after that small exchange.

“I don’t believe you are sick in that way Jett. Eat your food.” He said again and this time Jett reached out to take the warm bowl of pasta.

Ludwig was satisfied as he watched Jett eat, it was a slow process but he was able to force Jett to eat all of the pasta just by giving him a small glare whenever he looked like he’d stop. It put Ludwig at ease to know that Jett still had a healthy appetite, at least enough to keep him alive and well. His lack of eating truly seemed to only be a result of how hectic their schedule had been.

“Here.” Germany held out the vitamins that Kiku had supplied him. “From Japan.”  
Jett made a disgruntle face as he looked down at the little pills but with a cautious glance back up to his stern baby sitter he had no choice but to choke them down. Pleased by this Ludwig chuckled at his agitated expression.

“Your diet and lifestyle is unsatisfactory, when you’ve improved I won’t force the vitamins on you anymore.” He explained simply but realised that speaking like that made it seem as though he’d be monitoring him for quite some time. He hadn’t even realised it as he said the words, another problem he had to iron out in his own mind.

“Ah.” Jett looked pleasantly surprised when he took a sip of the hot drink Ludwig had brought him. “It’s sweet…” He looked puzzled by this and glance up to Germany.

“Do you like sweet drinks or something?” He asked.

“Nein.” Germany murmured offhandedly. “I thought a sweet drink would be nice for you.” It was a nonchalant answer, one he had put no thought into and he would have almost immediately forgotten the comment had Jett’s face not turned bright red.

“O-Oh….is that so?” He muttered, staring down into the cup. “Th-Thanks I guess.” Ludwig looked at Jett with an expression of surprise as he watched how Jett struggled to hide his flushed face.

Germany distantly remembered England reacting this way then America did something mildly useful or kind towards him. It appeared the Jett had gotten this trait from his big brother as well and that alone should have annoyed Ludwig but instead he found it all rather amusing. He wanted to bully Australia a little more.

“You still need punishment.” He announced casually and Jett jumped in alarm.

“W-What for!?” He demanded, placing the cup down roughly.

“Did you forget my orders?” Germany demanded with a sharp smirk as he glanced at Jett. “Not. A. Muscle.”

Jett remembered he’d been told not to move while Germany was gone but when the other had returned he was sprawled halfway between the bed and the floor.

“A-Ah that…ahah…” Jett laughed nervously. “I mean, it was an accident ya know?”

As he stumbled for an excuse Germany calmly removed the tray and cup from the bed, allowing Jett to blunder over his words as he cleared the punishment zone.  
Jett’s hasty words were cut short as a hand slammed down against the headboard besides his head. Tensed and nervous Jett found himself staring directly at Germany as he hovered over him.

“What shall we do for punishment?” Ludwig’s voice came out as a dark purr and Jett felt a small shiver run down his spine.

“How…how about we call this a one off?” He suggested hopefully.

“I don’t think so.” Ludwig chuckled at his weak attempt. “It was a small crime so I’ll give you an appropriate punishment.”

Jett didn’t struggle or protest as Ludwig’s hand pulled the bed sheets aside and began to crawl up his side. In fact he was entirely compliant, that was until Ludwig’s cold fingers touched a sensitive area.  
Jett let out a single uncontrolled laugh before covering his mouth firmly. Germany looked at the younger in surprise, he’d not taken Jett to be the ticklish type but he’d barely brushed his side to get that reaction.

It had not been his original intention but it seemed like a fitting punishment all the same and so with a dark smirk Germany’s hands attacked Jett’s weak sides.   
The second the assault began Jett began to kick and squirm wildly while fighting off fits of giggles. Pretty soon both he and Germany were laughing, it was strange to think that the two could actually laugh together like this.

“Come on!” Jett shouting past his panting and uncontrollable laughter. “Quit it…Germany!” He pleaded while trying to escape his tickle torture.

“Oh no you don’t!” Germany chuckled, dragging Jett back. Their wrestling eventually ended up with Jett securely held in Germany’s lap, still kicking and squirming about through the breathless laughter. Jett put up one hell of a fight through and Germany did find himself occasionally struggling to hold the other in place. Eventually they reached a mutual point of exhaustion and they ended up silently agreeing it was time to stop.

Still held in Germany’s lap Jett still let out a few last quiet giggles as he leant happily back against Germany’s chest. While Ludwig focused on catching his breath he closed his eyes and allowed his head to dip down and rest against Jett’s shoulder while his arms remained securely wrapped around the younger nation’s torso.

After a while there was silence in the room and their breathing returned to normal and the two began to recollect their thoughts. Somehow for both of them that rather sudden change in mood was more troubling than the original intentions.

For Germany he truly became concerned with how his brain was working, with just how he seemed to have grown accustomed to Jett and what he would do when it came time to discard him.  
While as for Jett he was a little bit confused, it didn’t feel like punishment in the slightest and there was a strange warmth in his chest that he could only call fondness.

Neither of them had expected any kind of affection to actually form.

“Jett.” Germany murmured finally, from where his head rest against the other’s shoulder. Jett inclined his head slightly back towards Ludwig to show he was listening.

“Do you remember when I was a kinder?” He asked quietly. “And mein bruder brought me to see you?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Jett answered with a faint smile. “You were always worried Prussia would get bitten by a spider or snake and die. You were kinda cute back then.”

Germany squeezed Jett’s torso slightly as a warning and the other simply laughed. “Right, right, I got it. You’re cute _now_ to.” He teased.

“You’re childish…” Ludwig murmured with an agitated sigh. “I remember back to when I first met you, at the time I thought that no one else that looked so lonely.”

“Are you pitying me Germany?” Jett asked flatly.

“Nein, I have no time for pity. It simply fascinated me, I always wondered back then what it would be like to be damned by everyone. I liked to think I’d be like you if it happened, that I’d just find a new place and make new friends. That I’d forget being condemned in the first place.”

Jett’s expression fell slightly at the thought. Ludwig said he would have liked to do what Jett had done but after all of this had he not seen how miserable an attempt it was at life? How many years had Jett spent wishing he was anywhere else? How many nights he prayed he’d wake up with a new face just to be anyone else and forget what he’d been a part of? The escape Ludwig had seen a child was nothing to admire, Jett had been nothing more than a shell, hidden away as best he could and there was never any peace. There was no forgetting being damned. There was nothing to envy in that life.

“The war…?” Jett realised what Germany was thinking about and craned his neck just slightly to look back at the other. “You were condemned after that, weren’t you?”

“Hmpf, England did not make it easy.” Ludwig admitted. “None of those allies did. Do you pity me?” He asked in return.  
“Hah, no I suppose you wouldn’t after all.” He laughed bitterly and a silence fell between them.   
Jett didn’t realise that Ludwig had paid such close attention to him as a child. Had he given Germany the wrong idea? Had he on some level influenced him incorrectly?

“Jett, I want you to…” Ludwig hesitated, allowing the thought to break off. This was moving into unsafe territory for Ludwig.

“Yeah Germany?” He asked when Germany remained silent, wondering what was on the other’s mind.

“It’s nothing…forget it.” He said finally, giving up on his own broken train of thought. Jett looked at the other for a while with a flat expression before finally he twisted himself around, causing Germany to lift his head in surprise at the sudden movement. Jett pressed one hand against Germany’s face and looked at him in silence for a few seconds. It was the only time Jett had seen the other so genuinely taken off guard.

Without a word Jett pressed a kiss to Germany’s forehead, the other frozen in shock. The small display of affection throwing the other off guard. The gentle kiss lingered on for a moment longer and when Jett pulled away instead of moving away from Ludwig his arms wrapped gently around the others head as Jett held him in a gentle hug.

Ludwig didn’t know what to do, it was not normal…Jett was not meant to show him any amount of genuine affection. But here he was holding him as one might comfort a lover, did Jett know to some extent just how it was Germany really thought…?

It was confusing and it was frustrating but Germany had no solution for it. Instead of pushing the other away as he should have Ludwig’s shaky arms came up to gently wind around Jett’s waist and holding him close. His head bowed slightly to rest against Jett’s chest and the two of them sat there in silence, neither knowing what to say and neither willing to try and solve this unasked question.

Jett could almost hear Ludwig’s heart beat and as he listened and held the other he realised just how broken they both really were. Jett had always thought of Germany as solid, unmovable but as they sat there together he saw that he was not the only one fumbling their way through the darkness.

Jett wasn’t sure who had started it anymore or where it had started. At first he may have believed that it was England that dragged him into this madness or maybe even Germany but he’d been in the darkness from the start. Germany had simply joined him there.  
That was alright…he’d stay in the darkness with him. Closing his eyes Jett relaxed into Germany and the two allowed time to simply drift on by.

Even if in the end it all came crashing down the two of them could indulge in this single moment.  
The darkness wasn’t so bad when there someone there with you.

 

…  
...  
...

 

_Unlikely House Call._

 

How long had it been since they fell asleep?   
Germany couldn’t be sure as he dragged himself from Jett’s bed. The two of them seemed to have been exhausted from the trials they’d been put through the past few days and had dozed off together.  
The only reason the Ludwig had to drag himself from the comfort of the warm sheets of their shared bed was the sound of someone ringing the doorbell. When he looked at the clock it showed it was the middle of the night, an unacceptable time to be banging on his door.

Still Germany forced himself to look presentable as he pushed his loose hair back into place and left the comfort of his and Jett’s room to answer the door. It was an ungodly hour of the night and Germany was well aware that both Japan and Italy were somewhere in the house and asleep at this time of night so neither of them would be bothering him and England wouldn’t be showing up this early – they still had a whole day before the meeting was to take place, no one was that desperate!

Whoever it was had no invitation and already Germany felt a mix of anger and caution as he descended how the steps towards the front door. The doorbell rung again, once, twice, three times, the rapid chimes reminding Germany of a child playing with the doorbell.

“Ja, ja! I got it!” Germany growled as he approached the door and with all of his restraint stopped himself from throwing the damned thing open and shouting at the midnight disturber.

“What?” He demanded harshly as he opened the door but Germany came up short when he saw the large nation standing on his doorstep.

“Russia?” Immediately he was on the defence. “What are you doing here?” Germany asked cautiously as his eyes quickly scanned over the other’s form, seeking out any weapon or violent intent. He found none of the smiling nation.

Instead Russia looked at Ludwig from his hunched position, finger still pressed to the doorbell as he smiled childishly. Straightening himself up the Russia smoothed out his constantly present scarf and turned to Ludwig with a pleasant enough tone.

“Ah.” Russia smiled innocently. “It’s a little late, da?”

Germany wished that he could have just shot the large nation right then and there.

“Ja, it’s late.” He hissed angrily. “So why are you on my doorstep Russia?”

“Oh da!” Russia laughed as though just remembering why he was here. “Russia came to help Germany.”

“Help…?” Germany repeated in disbelief.

“Da.” Russia’s smiled became uncomfortably smug and Germany got the sense that it was a dangerous expression. “Russia came to play as well. It looks fun da? It looks like lots of fun to play with America and England.” Germany relaxed slightly, realising exactly why it was Russia was here.

“I see.” Germany murmured, switching back into his professional mode. “In that case come in.” He offered pushing the door open wider to allow Russia access. “If you want to play as well then I’ll be requiring everything England told you.”

Russia merely smiled all the more as he stepped in. “Thank you very much comrade.”

As Germany shut the door again he was not sure which was more appropriate, to grin or frown. Once again the situation had gone past what he had originally planned.  
That was just fine…he was beginning to change what he wanted to finish this game with. What he wanted to win was more than what he had set out wanting.

If Germany had to fight for it…well…that was fine to.

 

...  
...  
...

Negotiations - Finished.


	9. Allies

_Ground Rules._

 

Germany watched Russia with a certain amount of distrust and unease. He and Russia had a great deal of tension between them, having very nearly been allies in the past but ultimately having the worst conflict.  
Even in this maddened state Ludwig could not forget just what this Russian bastard had done to him and Gilbert. Had his brother not been hiding from his own destruction of their home and been within its walls that night Germany would have locked Russia out without a second thought.  
Even now, with all of his insanity Germany would never allow Gilbert to be within grabbing distance of Russia ever again.

Russia stared back at Germany with his childish smile and frankly Ludwig never knew what to make of it. He always smiled even when he was very obviously unhappy or had murderous intent. That smile was dangerous and unpredictable and Ludwig did not enjoy things that could not be monitored and judged properly.   
So with every passing second that Russia smiled the crease between Germany’s brows deepened.

He was glad Jett was still asleep upstairs and that both Feli and Kiku were not present. He did not want to explain Russia’s presence and he had the oddest need to keep Jett out of reach just as he would Gilbert. Ludwig knew it was irrational but he feared somewhere in the back of his mind that Russia would simply snatch up whatever and whoever Ludwig treasured and steal them away.  
Ludwig hated Russia, really he did…but he could not deny the small thrill that came with his being here.

Russia had plenty to say about the allies and plenty to laugh about when it came to how riled up America and England currently were and in this state of mind Ludwig had chuckle to. It was perhaps the only time they had shared a laugh and Ludwig would not have done it under normal circumstances. However their chat had dwindled to this uncomfortable staring contest in utter silence. Germany knew Russia was sizing him up, judging the situation and how much he could get away with. Ludwig was doing much the same with Russia and he was cautious not to push at the boundaries but was now grasping the importance of setting his own.

“Rules.” Germany said finally, breaking the silence with a deadpanned voice, not allowing any room for weakness in the sudden order. If he and Russia were to collaborate there was to be very strict ground rules.

“A game needs rules…” Russia agreed reluctantly, easing back into his seat with the smile lost for a moment as he seemed disappointed.

“First and foremost, you will make no military strikes against any country during this campaign. I will not have your over excitement on my hands.” Germany set the first rule and Russia shrugged, he was not here for war after all.

“Secondly I will not have you tormenting Feli or anyone else in my house. If I see you within touching distance of Italy or Prussia you will not be let off lightly.” Germany had to keep the growl from his voice when setting that rule, it was possibly the most important personal ground rule he set.

“Prussia is not here though is he?” Russia smiled innocently, no doubt knowing how that got under Germany’s skin. He actively decided not to give and answer to that provoking question.

“Third, you are not to try and claim any nation for yourself at any time in this campaign.” Russia looked about as surprised as Germany felt. He knew the rule probably was not actually needed but considering the fragile nature of the situation Ludwig thought it best to put that down.

Thinking of the unstable young nation he had in his bedroom caused him to become guarded If Russia was to try any of that ‘become one with mother Russia’ nonsense Germany would not hesitate to unload a round or two into his head….or at least burn his scarf.

“Nervous are we?” Russia asked brightly. “About losing your new nation?”

“Cautious.” Germany corrected him stiffly. “I do not need another problem on top of England and America. I’m sure you understand my vigilance.”

“Da. Russia understands.” He answered, pleasing Ludwig as he agreed to that rule without a fuss.

“All the other rules fall under common sense. No soldiers, no fighters, nothing of the sort unless requested.” Germany summarised, if he was to outline every little rule he had in his mind for Ivan they’d be there long after this little escapade had ended.

“Unless requested?” Ivan repeated, interest peeked. “You intend to ask for them?”

“Nein, I do not but things may change.” Germany explained smoothly. “England is due to come tomorrow…–” With a quick glance at the clock Germany had to correct himself. “ –tonight, to discuss the current situation and try to find a sound solution.”

At this Russia grinned mirthlessly.  
“You say England is coming to discuss the possibility of your backing down when there is none? Does poor England know?”

“Nein.” Germany smiled slightly when saying that. “Things have…changed. He believes that I intend to hand Australia to him without complaint simply because the nation is a handful and that was true but I’ve decided against it. I imagine that England will not be pleased with this. I cannot be sure if I will be requiring a proper fight or not.”

“You wanted war da?” Ivan asked casually. “England seems to want the opposite.”

“That’s also true.” Ludwig acknowledged. “Admittedly I’ve flicked back and forth between wanting conflict and avoiding it.”

“Germany is uncertain of what he wants?” Russia looked innocently surprised by that fact. “How unusual for one such as Germany.”

“Ja, I agree.” Ludwig murmured reluctantly.

“Sounds as though you’ve made up your mind now though, da?” Russia asked with a knowing smile slipping onto his face slyly.

“I know exactly what I want.” Germany responded icily. “And exactly how far I plan to go to get it.”

“Russia will play along then, will be good fun with friends da?” Russia smiled brightly as though all the nations involved were having a good natured play around.

“If need be…Russia wouldn’t mind offering Germany support in warfare though.” He added with an eerie grin. “Just a little bit of a game between friends…da?”

“Ja.” Germany agreed, lying simply to suit Ivan’s tastes.

With this Germany had yet another card to play against Arthur should push come to shove.  
Germany had wanted so badly for it to come to shove earlier but now he’d be content if England threw his hand in and folded early. That way he’d simply take what he wanted without resistance but with that in mind…Ludwig would be just as pleased to see Arthur suffer on a little longer.

“Ah, it’s time I finish some work.” Germany announced, standing from his seat calmly. “If you intend to stay I’d be more than happy to make you something. I’ll be making breakfast soon.”

“You’re not returning to bed?” Russia asked and Ludwig didn’t miss the note of disappointment in his tone. “It is still early da?”

“Ja, but I am awake now. I cannot go back to sleep.” Ludwig barely tried to keep the ice from his voice, wishing very much that Russia had picked a less troublesome hour to come calling.

“In that case…Russia would be liking hot drink.” Russia smiled innocently, the expression crawling its way under Germany’s nerves.

“Please make yourself comfortable. I will just be a moment.” He said rigidly, wishing that Ivan would leave for now.

Russia seemed quite happy to settle into Germany’s home as though it was his own and outright ignored Ludwig’s more subtle hints. Frustrated but composed Germany took himself away from Russia, at least able to let out a heavy sigh once he was out of the other nation’s gaze. Having Russia involved was something that brought about mixed emotions in Ludwig but for now he was simply another asset under his finger tips, no matter how unsettling his presence was Ludwig was glad for it.

It was still far too early in the morning for anyone to be stirring. Ludwig would still be sleeping if he had the choice but he was up now and returning to bed simply wasn’t a possibility, especially with his house guest. Slowly his house was beginning to house more nations then Europe in its entirety….a small exaggeration.   
As Ludwig set the jug to boil he thought about going to check on each of the nations in his home. It was an urge he’d never felt the need to act on before, in fact he’d never even considered checking in on his allies unprovoked before.

As he listened to the steadily increasing boil and rattle of the jug Ludwig analysed himself. He’d made a habit of carefully observing his every little action and thought the past few hours, in an attempt to pull himself back under control. It took him a while but gradually Ludwig decided his need to see his allies safe and sound sprouted from the possibility that there was a war brewing and an untrustworthy nation under his roof. It was not unusual to be cautious.

Ludwig also had to consider where he would keep Jett for England’s visit that night. He couldn’t have the two in the same room, when it came to England Jett was surprisingly as predictable as he was irregular. Depending on which side of the bed he woke on that morning Jett could display a range of emotions towards his former big brother and that erratic element to Australia made it dangerous to keep them close to one another.  
More to the point Arthur seemed to have wised up slightly to his little brother’s feelings and motivations. That coupled with his desire to have Australia returned and his prior knowledge on his little brother alone was enough to put Ludwig on edge.

With another weary sigh Ludwig noticed the jug had started to wail, steam billowing out from its spout. Ludwig himself was going to need a strong cup of coffee to stay alert but he hoped perhaps a hot chocolate would put the childish Russia in a good mood while making him sleepy.

Germany thought about spiking the drink, it’d be easy to put some sleeping pills in there to try and get Russia out of his hair but the thought of that back firing stopped Ludwig from dumping the entire bottle of pills into Ivan’s hot chocolate. Instead he dutifully made the drinks and tried to think of easier ways to get Ivan to leave without a fuss.  
With the drinks made Ludwig returned to the living room where he had been conversing with Ivan only to find the Russian was missing.

Instantly Ludwig felt a chill run up his spine. Perhaps Ivan was in need of the rest room or had to stretch his legs? That would have been all well and good but Germany already knew that the nation would be skulking around doing something unsavoury. He had to confirm he was not ‘bullying’ any of his allies.

Setting the cups down roughly Ludwig immediately made a beeline for Italy’s room. He hoped for once Italy would be in his bed, at least he knew that his room could be locked from the inside…though that never seemed to stop Feli from somehow finding his way into Ludwig’s room in the dead of night.   
When he pushed the door to Feli’s room open just a crack to peer in he saw not only was Russia not present but Italy was snoring quietly in his own bed. Satisfied his wimpiest ally was both safe and in his own quarters for once in the entirety of his existence, Ludwig closed the door and swiftly made his way to Japan’s room.

When met with similar results Ludwig let out a sigh of relief. Neither of his allies were…  
Ludwig stood upright in alarm, he’d not even thought to check in on Jett. It was not something he usually had to consider when thinking of his allies but if Russia was with Jett, Germany was going to be furious.   
Back outside of his own door Ludwig reached for the handle before hesitating, hearing voices from inside. For a second Ludwig thought that Jett and Ivan were chatting but from what he could hear it was only Russia talking. As to just what he was saying Ludwig couldn’t make out through the door.

Angry that Ivan had snuck off into his room Ludwig opened the door with a firm slam, causing the Russian inside to look up from his position sitting on the edge of Ludwig’s bed. Jett was still laying under the sheets, unharmed and peacefully sleeping so at the very least Ludwig didn’t need to become overly violent.

“Russia.” Ludwig growled stiffly. “We’ll be needing to add another rule to our list. You’re prohibited to wander my home.” Ludwig’s eye twitched slightly when he noticed how Ivan’s hand rest atop Jett’s head. What Russia had wanted from Australia in the first place Ludwig was unsure and he didn’t care what it was, he wanted Ivan _gone_.

Russia made a disappointed pout at the new rule but much to Ludwig’s surprise he did not protest as he stood from the bed.

“Da, I suppose that’s fair.” Russia put his smile back on though little effort went into it. “Russia was just telling Australia story. Stories for sick Australia.” He explained innocently. “Australia is cute, talking in sleep.”

Russia paused, walking towards Ludwig when he caught the scent of something he liked and a bright smile came onto his face. It was the first one that Ludwig genuinely thought to be real.

“Ah. Germany made Ivan hot chocolate.” He said happily. “Ivan will drink now, see Australia later, da?” With that Russia breezed past Ludwig, ignoring the scathing look that the other followed him with. Only once Ivan had vanished through the door and down the hall did Ludwig move to shut the door. He forgot about his coffee and decided that he’d remain in his room until at least one other axis powers had woken up. He needed to be sure Ivan was not going to try and get back in here.

Ludwig decided until another ally had woken up he’d routinely check on the other three until it was deemed safe to stop. With a small growl of annoyance Ludwig stepped away from the door and walked towards the bathroom. He was simply going to shower and get properly prepared for the day but Ludwig stopped halfway to his goal, eyes landing on the sleeping Australian.

Russia’s presence was something like a plague and very easily disturbed all those it touched but Jett had slept like a rock even while Russia sat by his side and spoke to him. Did Jett have absolutely no sense of self preservation? Well…given all he’d seen the bull-headed nation do that may very well be the case.  
Curiosity was peeked in Germany when he noticed that Jett was murmuring something in his sleep, Russia had mentioned that he spoke while sleeping.

Creeping over to the bed side quietly Ludwig sat in the place that Russia had, feeling the sheets where he’d been were colder than the rest. That seemed oddly backwards but…it was Russia.   
All that ‘in mother Russia things are backwards’ nonsense America was so keen on, or something of that nature right?  
Jett spoke very quietly in his sleep but he did not appear to be having a nightmare at all. This took Ludwig by surprise, he’d seen Jett awake from nightmares before and he’d watched the thrashing and cringing that came before his waking.

On that morning however Jett almost seemed at ease as he slept. His words were terribly soft and Ludwig had to strain to catch even a few. He distinctly caught ‘mate’ and ‘yankee’ a few times and most of the other words seemed to be names to Ludwig. Some he recognised, some were foreign to him. It was only when Jett uttered _his_ name that he flinched back. If the sleeping nation had cringed when saying his name or looked in anyway disturbed it would have been less troubling but when Jett muttered his name it seemed almost pleasant.

This angered Germany more than it should have. Slamming his hands down on the bed he pushed himself from it and hastily escaped into the bathroom, unaware that this action had stirred the Australian slightly from sleep. Ludwig shut the door with a fair amount of force and wasted no time shedding himself of his clothes.   
This should have pleased Ludwig, he’d been working on forcing Stockholm Syndrome to occur in Jett but now that it seemed to be working so well he was uneasy.

Jett was simply being too affectionate, too genuinely pleased with Germany despite the horrendous things happening around him. If Jett continued to be this kind towards Ludwig he was not sure exactly how he’d respond. Already this had caused him to alter plans and act in ways he normally would not. Both he and Jett were acting outside of their usual natures and it was only serving to mess the other up further.

As Ludwig stepped into the shower he allowed the water to beat down on his back, each drop an icy good morning. A cold shower seemed an appropriate punishment for his uncooperative thoughts. Ludwig was a far cry from claiming something like love was occurring between them, he did not dare go that far. Thoughts such as that were simply illogical, purely irrational and confused. This was nothing more than a little bit of unintentional affection. He would put a stop to it, they’d iron out their relationship once England had left. Ludwig and Jett would be nothing more than brothers and allies, Ludwig would be able to return to the security of his usual stoic nature towards others and Jett could return to snarling at anyone who got too close.  
That was perfect right?

Ludwig’s irrational mind did not agree.  
Gritting his teeth Germany slammed his fist against the tiled wall of the shower. He needed to calm down, needed to recollect his thoughts and intentions. He had already decided what he’d do with Australia, there was no reason to diverge from that path. Now if only his unreasonable self would take that in.

Once the cold water began to stiffen Ludwig’s muscles he turned the heat on, he was no good taut, cold and cranky. With the warm water pouring down over his body Ludwig was able to breathe a relieved sigh, some of his tension washing away under the warm downpour. Along with his calming nerves his mind eased as well, deciding he was worrying over nothing. Everything was under control, he just had to relax a little bit like Italy always told him to. The warm section of the shower was significantly shorter than the cold as Ludwig did not allow himself much time for self indulgence and stepped out to dry in a matter of minutes.

Pushing his wet hair back off of his face Ludwig wrapped a towel around his midsection and walked to the vanity and mirror. He was going to need to shave again soon, he couldn’t tolerate scruffle, it would make him appear unorganised and untidy.  
Prussia was always diligent with his facial hair as well, it was one of the few subtle habits that marked him as surprisingly well organised. For all of his brashness and unruly behaviour Prussia had passed down his tidy nature to Ludwig at the very least. Thankfully Gilbert had at least never bothered his younger brother with being unhygienic or unorganised.

What was beginning to bother Germany however was the _lack_ of his brother. He’d never really considered the idea that Gilbert would act against him so harshly and now that his own family had, Ludwig was beginning to become uneasy. Well…at least more so than before. He and Gilbert had argued, sure they’d even exchanged a few blows before Gilbert decided to demolish the lower half of their home.

As to why this bothered him so much Ludwig was uncertain, exchanging blows as brothers was not unusual, so why was it just thinking about it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention?  
It took Germany some time to realise why it was that thinking about his exchange with his big brother was so unsettling, they’d not just been ‘exchanging’ blows as his filtered vision and hazy memory had caused him to believe. The simple truth was he had used these hands to beat Gilbert.

The realisation through the mist of insanity came to such a shocking blow to Ludwig that he had to grab hold of the vanity just to steady himself, the noise that came from his grab almost sounded as though he’d hit the sink instead of grabbing hold of it. When he thought back on when he had struck Gilbert the day before the house was ruined Ludwig’s indistinct memory cleared and he realised that not once had Gilbert actually struck him back.  
Ludwig had hit Gilbert, pushed him down and kicked him before dragging him from the room so he could easily deal with the rebellious Australian in peace. At the time he’d thought nothing of those actions, it was simply what had to be done.

Pressing a hand to his forehead Ludwig let out a low growl, regretting his actions immensely. While he could not bring himself to regret any of his other obvious wrong doings in this situation Ludwig very clearly felt guilt for what he’d done to Gilbert.  
Okay, that still did not justify the explosion but none the less Ludwig felt the need to apologise.  
And then force Gilbert to rebuild every fucking brick he’d blown loose.

“Germany?” Ludwig jumped slightly when he heard the cautious voice from the bathroom doorway. Looking back up at the cabinet mirror he saw a bedraggled Australia peering in at him with a concerned expression. “Are you…alright?”

As Ludwig looked at the uneasy nation he recalled the day he’d dragged Chris back home with him and the horrified expression he’d worn. On that day Ludwig had also thought nothing of the younger nation’s feelings towards beating his brother in what he thought to be an unjustified attack. Now that they’d both laid hand on their own siblings Ludwig felt somewhat compelled to apologise to Jett as well for having him do such a thing.  
Ludwig was quick to trample over that urge. He should not….would not feel any guilt for anything he’d done towards Australia.   
If he did…even for a second this entire charade would come crumbling down around him.

Much to Ludwig’s frustration Jett continued to stare at him with those concerned eyes. That false affection that had been instilled in the wounded nation’s mind was beginning to worm its way under Ludwig’s skin once again. He remained silent, holding onto his composure in the hopes Jett may simply leave. It was foolish to believe he would.

“Hey…” Jett murmured stepping into the bathroom, eyes on Ludwig’s hands as they clutched at the sink so tightly. Unaware of how his actions were perceived by Ludwig, Jett reached out with a single hand to gently touch Ludwig’s shoulder, hoping to act as some kind of console. The second Jett’s warm fingers brushed against Ludwig’s exposed flesh the elder male snapped.

“Germany is everything-?” Jett didn’t get to finish his question before Ludwig turned on him.

 

…  
...  
...

 

Jett was aware that he was dreaming, he almost always was aware when it happened. He’d been experiencing nightmares for so many years that it was impossible to not become a little accustomed to the feeling of dreaming. What was not standard for Jett was that he was not having a nightmare at all. In fact this dream felt…a little bit pleasant. He was not sure what he was dreaming about exactly, when compared to his usual nightmares this one had little to no definite detail, it had no event to copy in his mind as it aimlessly wandered in the sleeping world.

Sometimes he’d catch someone’s image or feel something warm against him. On occasions someone would speak to him though he was never sure what was being said or who it was talking with him. Fleetingly Jett may feel a hand in his own or a gentle pat on the head, actions he related to his brothers but that was the most clarity he got. For the most part the dream would simply come and go at its own pace. The places he saw were blurred and unhinged from reality and the people he saw all seemed blissfully ignorant to real life, it was as though he’d died and gone to the side he knew he’d never go to.

Jett was going to hell one day he knew it. Simple as that. You didn’t get away with hiding the best grog for ten years without getting a one way ticket to the furnace.

Still it never worried Jett that much but he was still fairly set on this being some sort of heavenly trip, he didn’t remember rolling a bad durry or any type of poison insect jabbing him ….so it had to just be a dream right? Well…it wasn’t unpleasant so there was no reason to try and wake up just yet.

Then something cold settled besides him, Jett rolled over in his sleep giving a small groan as the cold thing remained stationary by his side. Some part of him rationalised someone was there and judging by the feeling of dread in his stomach he should get up to see who it was but he wasn’t willing to give up this dream just yet.

Then something spoke to him. At first the words mixed in with the dream murmurings and held no rhyme or reason but slowly Jett was able to distinguish words and his dream world took on shapes by what he heard.  
Someone was telling Jett a story.

In his dream landscape the gentle warmth and sunlight faded away and he was left in a world of light whites and bright blues. In the dreamy world Jett sat on his knees in the middle of a vast sea of snowy forests. The snow was cold just like the presence by his side but it did not chill his bones or burn his naked flesh, instead it was soft and powdery, like a cool blanket the moment it settles over you during a hot night or even better the cool underside of a pillow. It was a gentle cold that Jett was sitting in at the story progressed. While it still lacked logic and reason his mind conjured up the icy world based on what it was his sleeping self could catch of the softly spoken story.

Jett became aware of his dream self holding some sort of flower. When he looked at the large plant he realised it was a sunflower, Jett never had any particular interest in the flower but for some reason it seemed fairly important in this icy landscape. How strange – for a flower to be blooming in this cold environment. Even while dreaming Jett knew it should have long since wilted and died…that was strangely saddening.

As the story continued Jett’s form relaxed and the cold presence no longer troubled him. Even when an icy pressure rest against his forehead Jett was not troubled. If he had known it was Russia speaking to him and that it was the giant nation that touched his head while he slept Jett would not have been so passive.

Then just as quickly as the story had begun it finished, with no real ending or reason, the presence was just…gone. Jett couldn’t be sure why that was but in this hazy dream state he did not mind and quickly forgot it had bothered him in the first place. In fact it wasn’t long after the cold vanished that something else replaced it. Jett could smell the sharp scent of gun powder that often clung to Germany. The scent brought his dream to a different image.

In the dream Jett could see Ludwig with him, they weren’t doing anything special…just talking. He didn’t know what they were speaking about but it didn’t seem important as the two of them chattered in a carefree way and laughed on occasion. As the dream blurred and twisted in the fluid motion that accompanied light dreaming would occasionally cause their forms to change. At times they were as normal but at any given time Jett could adorn his teenaged body or Germany his child’s body. They still chatted like normal when that happened but Jett couldn’t help but feel the need to guard little Germany a little more closely when he took on the form of his younger self.

So it was a surprise when England joined them in that dream world. Neither responded to Arthur coldly as he approached them, shifting in and out of Jett’s dream as he came closer. In fact once the three were together they all sat down and just….talked. There was no ill will, there was no war or anger…they were just happily talking.

It was that painfully serene setting that finally caused Jett to open his eyes. He’d been disturbed by a sudden jolting movement on the bed he slept on some time before but it was the impossible image he saw in his dream that finally pulled his head from the murky waters of sleep.

As Jett returned the conscious world and found himself alone in Germany’s bed his heart sank slightly. Gripping the sheets by his head tightly in one hand he replayed the image of the three of them sitting with one another. It was an impossible image and Jett cursed his mind for ever having conjured it up. Nightmares would be less heart wrenching.

Why show him something that he should have never even thought of?

Sighing softly Jett rose up from the bed, rubbing the back of his head and feeling the knots that had formed in his hair over night. Somewhere during his sleeping the band that held his hair in a low pony tail had come loose and he was left with the messy strands of blonde hanging around his face, getting in his eyes. He would have cut it had it not been for the fact that it would make him look more like Arthur.

As he sat there in the lingering haze of his dream, Jett’s mind wandered into dangerous and unfamiliar territory.

 _Maybe I should call England…._  
Jett’s murky brain thought drunkenly. Only a moment after the risky thought did Jett sober up some. Why call England? He hated England…hated, hated, _hated_ , the bastard. Yeah…that’s right.   
Even though he reasoned with himself Jett couldn’t entirely shake the desire to call England. Eventually he decided that was because he just wanted to make sure Chris and Zea were alright.

He’d guessed fairly early on where his brothers had been taken to after the explosion, but he’d not had the courage to ask after them just yet. He did not know what Germany would think of such requests.  
Thinking of Germany….

Jett turned his head towards the bathroom, he’d distantly heard the sound of water running in there and assumed that Ludwig had been showering. However that sound had come to a stop some time before and now there was no sound at all in the room as Jett listened for any sign that Ludwig was still in the bathroom. He would have completely ignored it but…when the body wanted to go it just wanted to go.

Just when Jett was sliding from the bed to go and check on the bathroom he heard some motion from inside. For a second Jett paused, hearing a soft thud sound from inside as though someone had punched something. With a frown Jett cautiously crept up to the door, hands delicately pressed against the cool wooden door so that he could peek in and spy just a little bit.

Inside Jett could see Germany hunched over the vanity with a hand pressed roughly to his head. Jett could not see his face from this angle and the hand along with the tilt of his head obscured most of Germany’s features in the mirror. Jett watched on in silence for a moment wonder what was wrong with Germany. He so rarely seemed upset by anything but right then Jett saw the other male was in some form of agony.

A small growl came from Germany as he seemed to be thinking hard about something. Jett was nervous, afraid that if he disturbed the other he’d get into trouble but at the same time Germany looked as though he may just need the extra comfort. So with a deep breath to calm his nerves Australia pushed the door open and spoke.

“Germany?” Ludwig jumped slightly at his voice and looked up at Jett through the mirror. In Germany’s cool blue eyes Jett could see a tiredness he’d not noticed before, it was as though he’d been up all night long and was stressed. “Are you…alright?”

Germany was staring at him through the mirror, hands still steadily clutching the vanity. Germany seemed to be considering something very carefully when he stared at Jett though he said absolutely nothing. Jett felt uneasy under that searching gaze and as his gaze dipped down Jett noticed how tightly Germany held the vanity. His knuckles were turning white and there was a small tremor in his hands as they held tighter still. Concern reignited Jett spoke up again.

“Hey…” Jett murmured stepping into the bathroom. Germany still did not respond, he did not even turn from the mirror when Jett reached out towards him. Jett simply wanted to see if he could somehow ease the crease that had formed between the larger nation’s brows. He simply needed to know that Germany was okay.

“Germany is everything-?” Jett didn’t even manage to get the question out before Germany was on him.

In an instant Jett was slammed up against the bathroom wall, hands pinned on either side of his head by Germany’s larger hands. He was caught in between Germany and the cold tiles of the bathroom wall, Germany was between his legs and easily held all of him trapped against the wall.

Jett wasn’t even given the chance to cry out in alarm before Ludwig trapped him into a rough kiss. Taken off guard by the sudden kiss Jett didn’t even try to respond, neither trying to escape or kiss back. It didn’t make Ludwig happy and he expressed his annoyance with a small bit on Jett’s lip, causing the other to snap out of his daze and respond best he could whilst pinned down.

The kiss became increasingly deep as Ludwig fought to claim more and more of Jett’s mouth, finding that even while submissive Jett was tough to dominate in the kiss. It was only when Jett seemed to be running out of air that Ludwig released him from the kiss, keeping his body firmly trapped in. Jett could not have moved anyway as his legs turned to jelly and his body began to heat up.

“Germa- ahnf!” Jett tried to speak but was only caught in a second kiss, Ludwig’s rough touch remaining just as harsh as the one before it. Poor Jett didn’t have any prior experience on kissing before Ludwig so he found himself to be quite helpless under Germany’s embrace.

Jett tried, he really did try to get a word in. But every time he was able to make a sound Germany caught him in another kiss and silenced him. Before long Jett forgot how to even speak and simply felt light headed, face flushed dark red with embarrassment. Only then did Germany stop, when he was sure Jett wouldn’t speak a word.

“What did I tell you?” Germany murmured quietly, the two barely an inch apart as they stood in the quiet bathroom. “I told you to call me Ludwig when you first came to mein house, ja?” Ludwig demanded quietly. “Stop calling me Germany.”

As Jett stared up at Ludwig he couldn’t help but tense up. He always called him Germany simply because it felt rude to say otherwise…but…why shouldn’t he call him by his true name? Nervously Jett glanced down at the ground and murmured quietly.

“Sorry…Ludwig. I’ll remember. Ah…Ludwig my arms…” He muttered wincing at how tightly Ludwig grasped his wrists, immediately the rough handling ceased and Jett was able to get his arms free. The second he was free however he did the opposite of what Germany expected him to do. Instead of fleeing or putting space between them Jett wound his arms around Germany’s neck tightly and hugged him close.

“Jett? What are you..?” Ludwig began to question, taken aback by this tight embrace.

“You looked upset before. I was worried.” With Jett unable to see Ludwig’s face he completely missed the grimace that accompanied his concerned words.

Germany struggled with what to do, it was easy when he was in control. It was easy to hold the other down and simply do what came naturally to him but when confronted with something kind hearted Ludwig hesitated. Just as the night before however his arms slowly wrapped around Jett and returned the hug although it was a little bit nervous on his end.

“It’s not worth concerning yourself with.” Ludwig told him gently. “Forget you saw anything.” He urged pushing the other away slightly. It did him no good.

“Ludwig!” Jett grabbed hold of either side of Germany’s face, they were still close to one another and Ludwig was still half pushing Jett into the wall but all the advances from before seemed to have been forgotten as Jett surprised the other male.

“Don’t feed me that crap.” Jett snapped, reverting to his usual self. “I’m just worried about you mate… you look like shit.”

Ludwig laughed. He couldn’t help himself as the small chuckle took them both by surprise. Taking one of the hands that held his face Ludwig pressed the smaller hand to his lips where a smile had formed. Jett sounded best when he spoke in his normal voice, it was brash and not at all like that of a well spoken gentleman but it eased Ludwig’s mind somewhat. It was the voice that the real Jett used, not the one that had been crafted by others.

“Ah Jett…” Ludwig chuckled quietly. “Just like a fretting nanny.” Ludwig cooed gently, making light of Jett’s concern. His heart and head still did not match up and there was a mounting fear that he – the great Germany – was going a little soft on this little convict colony.

Before Jett had the chance to retaliate to that comment he was backed up against the wall again, Ludwig’s hand resting by the side of his head while the other continued to hold his hand to his lips. The two didn’t say anything as they stood there, some part of Jett wanted to escape, to run away from the other in fear of what may happen if he stayed put.

Ludwig was searching his face carefully as they remained in silence, judging just how afraid the other was in these close quarters. There was fear there, Ludwig could see it and while it did – to some sick extent – bring him a fair amount of excitement he did not feel nearly as happy seeing it as he had the first night he and Jett had been together. At that time all that Ludwig had enjoyed was the punishment he’d inflicted on the captured nation but now that Jett was not fighting it made Ludwig uncomfortable to make him afraid.

It was like frightening Italy…although to be fair Feli was scared of his own shadow so perhaps it was not a fair comparison but the guilt was the same.  
Finally he began to remove himself from Australia, Ludwig had decided already their relationship would be a normal one. He had simply acted without thinking that morning.

“Stay.” Jett muttered quietly, causing Ludwig to come to a grinding halt as the hand that once held Jett’s wrist was not clasped tightly by the smaller male.   
“The other night…when we were talking, you were going to ask me to stay weren’t you? It’s a little strange…to be asked, not told.”

Ludwig shifted uncomfortably when asked this. His irrational mind had been thinking something along those lines at the time. Despite his attempts to move away from Jett once again Ludwig found himself rooted in place as the other held onto his hand tightly.

“I get it….really I get it.” Jett muttered gruffly, sounding more and more like his original self the longer Ludwig went without enforcing the control he had before. Still he allowed Jett to continue, he liked this Jett. The submissive Australian was certainly not without perks but he like Jett this way.

“I know what it’s like ‘right? I understand how scary it is to be on your own, to get left behind. I understand the guilt and regret you feel when looking back. I know it better than most people…I know what it’s like to want to try and keep something close.” Jett’s hand gave Germany’s a little squeeze to accentuate his point. “And I know what it’s like to lose it.”

Jett closed his eyes for a brief second and just as always he saw what remained just behind his eyes. In his memory Jett remembered the happy smile of his first friend as they played together and in the same moment he remembered the tears he’d shed the day that his friend was taken away. Jett knew loss and he was convinced he knew it better than most. Jett wanted to shelter Ludwig from that, he wanted to shelter Chris and Zea and it was that irrational desire to protect others from something he could not that often drove him to the edge.

“I want Chris home, I want Zea home and I want to be here.” Jett said firmly while looking directly at Germany, not cowering away as he would before. “I’m not going to run away from you, I’m not going to leave you all on your own Ludwig. So even if it’s dumb and sappy as all fucking hell I’m going to be right here by your side.”

“And England?” Ludwig asked coldly, he still knew the danger of having Arthur in the picture. With England involved he may very well lose Jett. “What about him?”

“…” For a moment Jett was silent before muttering firmly. “I’m not going to lose anymore. Not to England. If I lose even one more brother…my mind is going with them. So…don’t let me lose another, alright?” Jett was dead serious and Ludwig made a mental note to be cautious with the Australian’s brothers, it was a delicate situation.

Ludwig’s hand tightened back around Jett’s and with the other he cradled the smaller male’s head gently, fingers becoming tangled in the free blonde strands. As he held Jett close the other grabbed a fist full of his clothes while clutching Ludwig’s hand in return.

“This time…I’m going to make happy memories.” Jett murmured into Ludwig’s chest. “I’m going to cook with Italy, see all of Japan’s manga, drink all night with Prussia and show you a summer Christmas. I’m going to go back to smiling and having fun…no matter what I have to do to get it.”

Closing his eyes Ludwig rest his head atop Jett’s head. It was now too late for second thoughts.  
Oh yes…it was far too late. Turning back was no longer an option.  
If Ludwig had to kill Arthur to keep Jett with him he would. Ludwig was not going to lose anything either, even if all logic should be abandoned and the original plan…so be it.  
Ludwig was going to keep Jett right here with him.

Even if one day Jett protested…Ludwig was going to keep him.

 

…  
…  
…

_Errand Boys._

 

“Do you have the list?” Germany asked Jett while he adjusted his bandages for the second time that day. Jett’s injuries had healed quickly just as expected and had the gun shot not come from Alfred they could have potentially healed overnight.

Guns were a rather inefficient weapon against countries even whilst in the use of other nations, if one really intended to murder another they had to either use their hands or their personal weapon.  
You know a personal weapon like the pipe that Russia was currently holding while they got geared up to go out.

Not for the first time Jett took a cautious glance at the Russian, a little intimidated by his sheer size…and cold. Jett disliked the cold much like the rest of his country but Ludwig had insisted that Russia accompany them out to the store that day and Jett thought it would be best that he could keep an eye on Italy while they were out.

“Yeah, I got it.” Jett muttered while he watched Ludwig fuss over him, this kind of send off reminding him quite a bit of the day he’d been sent to pick up Chris. “Does he have to come?” Jett murmured, sulking as he glanced back at the smiling Russia who was currently scaring the hell out of Italy just by existing too close to the other. The more he smiled the more poor Italy pissed himself, even Japan was shying away from him.

“Ja.” Ludwig answered firmly though he did give Jett a sorry look. “I have something important on tonight and I’ll need everything on the list. Please bear with it a little longer.” He explained rather formally but when Jett looked at the list…well it didn’t look important at all.

In fact everything on the list looked as though it had been picked out especially for certain people. There was fish for Japan, plenty of pasta for Italy and….well….plenty of alcohol for he and Germany. There was no shame in a bit of grog. Still the more Jett looked over the list the more he noticed the subtle lacking of things for Germany, it was all for his allies and guests. Of course Jett did not say it out loud, he would have embarrassed Ludwig by pointing out how kind he really was.

“Don’t go anywhere else.” Ludwig continued to fret, acting like a mother sending her boys out to pick up milk. “Right to town and right back, no detours.”

“Are you going to tell me not to talk to strangers to?” Jett asked cheekily.

“Ja.” Ludwig answered bluntly, jamming a finger against Jett’s forehead. “Even kinder know that. I shouldn’t have to tell you.”

“I got it already.” Jett muttered swatting at Germany’s hand. “We’ll be right back with everything. It’ll be fine I promise.” With that Jett reached up and gave Ludwig a quick kiss, causing the other to turn bright red while the mischievous Aussie grinned. “Don’t miss us too much, eh?”

Ludwig grunted something as he tried to compose himself, finding it a little bit frustrating that this time around Australia was the one that was still within his comfort zone. Seeing Ludwig’s reaction only caused the Aussie’s grin to widen.

“Seriously, don’t worry.” Jett added while glancing past Germany towards Feli and the others, gesturing for the timid nation to come over away from Ivan. “I’ll look after them.”

“I would feel more at ease if Japan looked after you.” Ludwig muttered quietly. “Your judgement worries me.”

“What do you mean?” Jett huffed indignantly as Italy all but ran into him, hiding himself against Jett’s side to avoid Russia.  Ludwig simply chuckled at the angry little Australia and gently rest his hand atop the other’s head.

“Return safely and I’ll retract that comment. Just make sure you come home.” With that he allowed the small group to get ready to leave before adding hastily. “And don’t forget anything on that list!”

“Right, right I got it.” Jett muttered again while stuffing the paper into his pocket.

“No detours.” Ludwig insisted.

“I _got_ it!” Jett stressed with his back to Ludwig as they really did try to leave.

“And no talking to strang-” Ludwig didn’t get that last one out as Australia whipped around and tossed a stick at his forehead. Jett was lucky that Ludwig was so quick on his feet and dodged the flying branch, but only narrowly.

“I told you I got it!” With that Jett began stomping away, Feli all but clinging to him making the process of stomping rather difficult. Giving a small sigh and laugh Ludwig watched them go, just hoping that for once Jett would actually ‘get it’ he seemed somewhat oblivious to Germany.

Still he was letting Jett go outside and without his supervision. It made Ludwig uncomfortable but if they intended to have a somewhat harmonious relationship he’d need to give the Australian a certain amount of leash or his new pet would turn and bite him. As such – despite his unease – Germany had let Jett guard himself and try to trust that the other could at least get something as trivial as shopping done without incident. It was just shopping, _surely_ they would be okay.

Ludwig needed a beer….

….  
….  
....  
  
_Shopping With Mother Russia_

 

_He’s still there…_

Jett made an uncomfortable face as he shied away further from the smiling giant by his side. They hadn’t spoken since leaving Germany’s place and the more Jett’s frustration waned the more he began to sense the cold front that followed Russia and was currently very firmly sticking by his side.

Italy was shaking in his boots as he clung onto Jett’s arm on the opposite side to Russia, using the Australian as a human shield against the massive nation. Jett didn’t mind that seeing as he wanted to guard Italy but his clinging and trembling made progressing further rather difficult, it was getting to the point where he was just thinking about carrying Italy to make things easier.

What made the whole process even more unbearable was that smile. Russia was constantly just in the corner of Jett’s eye and all he could see was the childish smile he wore so easily. Jett imagined it must have been painful, smiling like that for such an extensive amount of time. Smiling was hard for Jett even in small bursts but Russia just kept on beaming as they walked down the road in crushing silence.

He was the cloud that hung over an otherwise lovely outing. If he could have swapped Russia out with Germany they would have had the perfect excursion. Still Jett wasn’t about to tell him to bug off, Jett wasn’t going to say anything to Russia if he could help it.

He and Russia never really spoke…as in ever. He could not recall one meeting between the two of them in the past. Perhaps he and Chris had spoken at some point but Jett had never even shared a room with the other.

Although with the chaos going on around his and Ukraine’s place Jett had a feeling he was going to need to growl at Russia pretty soon. He wasn’t one to take this kind of behaviour lightly and Australia was even less happy with the two, his people were there as well…if they didn’t pull their act together fast-

 _His people_?   
Jett’s thought broke off before it could really get the blame train rolling. His people, it was a little bit of a strange realisation that dawned on him in that moment but sure enough…he could feel them.

Jett stopped walking, almost tripping poor Feli over in the abrupt halt and pressed a hand to his chest in surprise. He could feel them…just like in the past he could feel the people of Australia in him.

“Ve..?” Italy looked up at Jett with a confused expression on his cute little face. “Is something wrong…?” He asked but was surprised to see Jett was smiling a full hearted grin. Jett seemed so glum and moody all the time so Italy was ecstatic to see such a happy expression on his new ally’s face.

“Nah.” Jett replied, still beaming as an old warmth filled his chest. “Everything’s perfect.”

Jett was so distracted by his new found joy that he didn’t notice that for the first time that day Russia was not smiling. Just staring at him with those cold violet hues.

After that they had continued to walk but the constant cold sensation seemed to have lifted somewhat next to Australia’s warm glow. When he was pleased Jett was able to give off the same warmth that his little brother did, after all they were a fairly hot country. There was a joke in there about them being hot in more than one way but Jett would keep it to himself until he could shove it down Prussia’s throat one day. While drunk out of his mind of course.

Jett was no longer paying attention to where he walked or what they were doing, he was too busy listening to the small buzz of life in his body. England had always taught his little brothers to listen to their people, the thing that gave them voice and reason, it was everything to a nation and Jett had not heard in what felt like an eternity.

How had England phrased it when Jett was just a scrawny ankle-biter? Oh that’s right… One heart to house a thousand voices _.  
_ Jett smiled faintly at the memory, even with all of his bitterness towards Britain he at least did agree with him on that.   
_He always was such a sap_. Jett thought with a small chuckle. England had failed him in many ways but he had never fudged that lesson. They _always_ come first. A nation is nothing without the people and without the people there was simply no life or light.

There was warmth and a bright sensation that came with a happy, peaceful nation. Oh yes there was war in other countries and there were spits in the media just like anywhere else but overall Jett’s home was unburdened by conflict just as it always had been. His country absolutely shone like the summer sun.

“You’ve been smiling for some time now Australia-san.” Kiku spoke up from behind Jett and Feli. “You’re glowing…”

Jett glanced over his shoulder and smiled even brighter towards Japan, feeling genuinely happy in that moment that even his usual cloudy mood couldn’t ruin things.  
“Really? I guess I’m just having a good day.” He answered vaguely. “I’ll be happier once Chris and Zea are home.” He added the comment offhandedly and even the implications of his statement did not dim his shine.

Today would be a good day, today Jett was going to have fun like he wanted to.  
He would have been happier, however had the supermarket not been a god damn, fucking freezer!

The second they had stepped foot into the supermarket Jett had started to shiver. For some reason the whole store was air-conditioned and frankly it wasn’t that warm a day to begin with! Once you factored Russia’s presence into the shopping trip as well however, you had yourself one freeze your friggin ass off experience.

Jett tried to hide his trembling as he reached for an apple, inspecting the fruit so that he didn’t bring Germany any rotten goods. Who in their right mind even ate fruit in Germany’s house? Japan never expressed an interest, Italy was too busy stuffing down pasta and Jett didn’t remember Ludwig ever being terrible keen on fruity things. Most likely Germany was getting this fruit stuff to add to Jett’s new diet, the thought made him groan knowing that had to be the case. Jett didn’t think it would be for their guest Russia either…did Russia even eat? Jett might have asked but the possible answer gave him the chills.

Something he did not need while he was quivering in his boots simply from standing in a shop. Jett knew he had to suck it up, everyone else was completely fine but him. He couldn’t look wimpy when out with Italy for crying out loud!  
But then again the fact they were unfazed by this temperature…well that was to be expected. They came from colder countries and Australia was never really bitterly cold even in the winter days. To find snow even in the middle of winter in Australia most had to travel half way across their massive island nation and Jett would never understand why anyone wanted snow in the first place. It was cold, it was miserable and it was dark – Jett tried not to make the connection between his description of snow and his own dreary personality.

Clenching his teeth roughly Jett tried to will his body to be still, locking up all his muscles while hugging his arms close in an attempt to hide his discomfort. It didn’t occur to him that while he was so focused on looking unfazed that he had been staring at the same apple for roughly five minutes, people would think he was insane at this rate.

“Comrade.” Jett jumped at the unfamiliar voice and before he could even think of a response something was dumped over his shoulders. A thick fabric weighing him down from his head and shoulders…but it was warm. Jett’s trembling started again as the sudden warmth pressed against his cold skin and without thinking Jett clung to the thing that had been draped over him.

It took him a moment to realise that someone’s arms were wrapped around him as well. It took Jett a good long while to realise that it was Russia holding him and once he had that realisation Jett lost his wits. With a panicked yelp he jumped, frantically pushing against Russia.

“Let go of me!” He demanded angrily, trying to keep his voice low so that the human customers wouldn’t notice their little scene.

“Ah, but little Australia is cold.” Russia mused with a childish smile and small giggle, somehow Jett got the impression he was being mocked. “This is warmer, da?”

Jett grumbled angrily when he did notice that his body stopped shaking once the heat began to seep in. Once he’d calmed down enough Jett picked up another apple to inspect, trying to play it cool. It made him both nervous and embarrassed to imagine Russia’s huge form hugging him like some sort of child but he also realised that there was something between the two of them that provided the heat.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye Jett could see something like black fuzz around his cheek. He guessed Ivan had dumped some sort of blanket on Jett before hugging him. That made sense, if Russia had hugged Jett directly he might have turned into a Jett shaped ice-block.

“What did you put on me?” Jett asked finally and was rewarded with a small squeeze of Russia’s iron like embrace. Jett was afraid if Russia squeezed much more he might accidently break Jett under his hold.

“Jacket.” He informed Jett with a cheerful laugh.

“What? A jacket…?” Jett frowned, grabbing a bit of the fur by his eye. Sure enough with a little tug he could feel the jacket move and a hood like shape shift up. “It’s not yours...” He noted slowly. “Where did you get it?”

“Ah, Russia borrowed it.” Russia told him innocently and Jett could already feel a vein beginning to pop in his temple.

“ _Borrowed_?” Jett seethed the word but he didn’t get an explanation, simply a slightly painful squeeze and silence.

He should ignore it, shouldn’t upset Russia and end up being crushed. So instead of investigating the obvious theft Jett finished picking out apples and let the warmth comfort him. Jett had a sinking suspicion that the reason it had been so warm was because it had literally just been torn from the poor owners back before being dumped on Jett. But who was really going to try questioning Russia…? No one was _that_ suicidal.

“Alright Russia.” Jett sighed finally once he could put it off no longer. “Off you get.” Russia didn’t budge and Jett’s temper flared.

“Oi mate!” Jett growled, glancing back towards Russia to begin snarling but stopped dead when he saw the way Russia smiled at him. It was the same childish smile that he always wore but Jett could see the faint purple hue that surrounded him. England had mentioned it once when Jett was younger, it was one of the things only England seemed to see like his fairy friends and Uni but Jett could see it just fine as well and it was frightening.

“Did Jett say something?” Russia asked cheerfully.

“A-Ah…no, it’s fine.” Jett muttered, losing his nerve fairly quickly. “Just um...could you let go?” He tried again, this time as a question rather than a demand.

Russia’s smile grew before he gave Jett one last breath taking squeeze and released him. Russia didn’t say a thing to Jett as he skipped off to traumatize someone else with his mere existence. Jett was visibly shaken and this time it had nothing to do with the cold but even so…

Gently Jett pinched the jacket on his shoulders and looked around. It seemed as if everyone had cleared out when Russia was near so Jett couldn’t spot the poor sod that had their clothes nicked. Still he’d keep an eye out and give it back should someone ask but for now it was the comfort he needed to get through the rest of the shopping.   
It shouldn’t have bothered Jett that everyone fled when Russia was around, it shouldn’t have made him feel bad for Russia but it did…just a little.

Both Italy and Japan were missing somewhere in the shop, the three having broken the shopping list up between them to cut down the time and work load though now that Jett stopped to really think about it he regretted their choice. They’d be lucky if Italy didn’t show up with a mountain of pasta and white blankets for his flags.

Jett got the easiest list, mostly just basic amenities and whatever new dietary requirements Ludwig had for him. Green stuff and colourful fruits ended up being a majority in his basket and the booze a minority, not his favourite haul in the world.

Letting go of the shopping trolley Jett tugged his arms into the jacket and zipped it all the way up to his nose before pulling the furry hood over his head. The black jacket was a welcome relief and Jett found that the somewhat anti-social look of the hoddie was appealing to him if not a little bit fitting. He must have looked like a complete bogan, some sort of high school emo or stoner walking around the shop rugged up like that but Jett chose comfort over appearance every time.

“Australia~!” Jett heard a frantic scream echoing through the store and he barely had time to turn and look towards the screaming before he was blindsided by a runaway trolley occupied by a wailing Italy.

The impact of the trolley was unforgiving as it flew straight into Jett’s torso. He was thrown off his feet in an instant and the wind knocked out of him. Jett felt himself curl around the trolley slightly when it hit and the sudden stop that Jett’s body provided threw Italy from his seat in the front of the cart. Jett was still in the middle of a none too gentle collision but he saw Italy go flying and put that as his second priority.

It all moved quickly but Jett was fast when it came to some form of combat and while a shopping cart wasn’t what first came to mind when one thought of a fighting opponent – it turned out to be a rather difficult fight.  
Jett reached out, uncurling his body from the protective stance he had taken to catch Italy. Italy was like deadweight though he was so small and the two of them were sent tumbling to the ground. Jett could feel the trolley’s contents falling on them as it flipped and came crashing down on them.

Instinctively Jett’s arms wrapped around Italy, protecting him from harm while his leg shot out to kick the trolley, at least stopping it from landing on them. He could distantly hear Italy wailing as Jett held him protectively to his chest, Jett glared up at the trolley as his foot connected with the bottom of it, holding it up off the ground with its wheels still spinning wildly and all of its contents scattered around them. Gradually the chaotic nature of the crash settled down and time resumed moving at a normal pace.

Once Jett’s adrenaline calmed down he gave a heavy sigh and lowered his leg slightly, the trolley coming with it before he kicked the blasted thing off of he and Italy. Feli was crying into his chest, no doubt shaken by his unfortunate adventure and he continued to cling to Jett as the other sat up. Jett could feel his chest throbbing, his bullet wound acting up a little bit though for the most part he came out fairly unscathed, a few new bruises no doubt but nothing brag worthy.

“Alright mate.” Jett began to say scoldingly to Italy, unable to keep the irritation from his tone. Glancing down at the trembling nation frowned as he watched Italy’s curl twitch and shudder in terror. Had it really scared Italy so much? “

“Ah…” Jett rubbed the back of his head as he tried to think of what to say without being cruel to the already scared Feli. “Hey, it’s alright now Italy. I got ya mate so calm down, ya hear?” He tried while patting the top of Italy’ head. He was being generous, Ludwig would have barked scolding words at Italy for hours had this happened to him but Jett just didn’t have it in him to be angry at the weak little fella.

Italy still sniffled quietly and curled into Jett’s chest causing the other to smile faintly. Yeah he was aching and fuming but most of his anger was turned on the cart instead of Feli. It reminded him of Chris and Zea when they were younger and would have a tiff before both running to him, it was something of a weak spot of Jett’s. Little ankle biters and the like were definitely a soft spot for the cold nation.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough.” Jett murmured soothingly as he placed his chin on Feli’s head. “You’re safe, see? Stop snivelling, what would Ludwig say if he saw this?” Jett imagined roared swears would have been in order had Ludwig seen this.

Gradually Feli’s curl straightened out at Jett’s calming words and he looked up at the other to see if he was glaring or not but found Jett was smiling at him.

“Well that was quite the trip wasn’t it?” Jett chuckled, looking up at the trolley and the mess they’d made. People were starting to gather and Jett knew they’d need to apologise to the workers before helping with clean up.

“Ve…s-sorry.” Italy murmured meekly. “I didn’t want to go for a ride, but Mr Russia said it would be fun.”

Jett made a face at that. So it wasn’t Feli’s clumsiness this time but more to do with Russia’s sadistic idea of fun. Jett began to get angry and immediately started looking around for Russia in the group of faces, he wasn’t nearby and Jett was already thinking about hunting the god damn Russian down to growl at him.

“Fun, eh?” Jett repeated dryly. “Yeah, looks like a riot.”

“Ve, ve…it was okay until he let go.” Italy admitted and Jett just groaned quietly. Italy should have known better than to play a game with Russia.

“Alright little guy.” Jett said finally, standing up as he held Italy to his chest, cradling him like one would an injured child. “That’s more than enough adventure for you. Hm..?” Jett looked down at all of the items that had fallen from the cart. Mostly pasta as expected and he did notice a few white bits of fabric but for the most part Italy seemed to have actually done the correct shopping.

Italy noticed what Jett was looking at and smiled excitedly.  
“Italy did good ci?” He asked brightly. “I got everything Luddy put on the list! And a little bit more.” Jett glanced to where Italy pointed when he said the ‘little bit more’. At first he expected some kind of Italy like item but instead he saw Italy was picking up thongs and little Australian flags.

Naturally surprised Jett’s face heated up as he looked at the items obviously meant for him.

“F-Feli…did you?” He began to ask and Italy nodded rapidly before waving his arms around, making it hard for Jett to keep hold of him.

“Ve, Feli thought that Jett would like an Australian flag in his pasta! I got some for everyone, see, see? Ve~” He pointed out the other flags he had gathered and Jett smiled at the thought of him putting them in everyone’s pasta.

“You’re a cute little country you know that?” Jett laughed before setting Italy down. He had to catch Feli when he stumbled, it seemed he was a little disorientated from his disastrous trolley ride.

“On second thought, climb up.” Jett decided. He had considered carrying Italy earlier and it seemed the best choice now. For a second Feli stared blankly at him and Jett rolled his eyes. “Make like a koala and cling on, got it?”

“Ah! Ve, Italy gets it!” He said brightly and with Jett’s help he climbed onto his back. Italy weighed nothing to Jett and was much easier to carry than Chris had been as a child. If anything Italy’s only inconvenience was his constant movement. He had a habit of messing up Jett’s hair and kicking his feet about still Jett put up with it seeing as he helped pick up the fallen items when Jett bent down. So with Italy on his back Jett picked up the mess they’d made. It must have looked funny and occasionally Jett did laugh when he saw someone staring but overall his mood wasn’t dampened.

“Italy-kun, Australia-kun…?” Jett glanced over to see Japan nearing them with his own cart. “Is everything alright?” He asked and Jett stifled a laugh at his accent, something about his ‘L’ sounds just got to him.

“Yeah, we had a small spill.” Jett told him casually. “Nothing’s broken though so we’re ‘right.”

“Where is Russia-sama?” Jett frowned at the ‘sama’ bit but he guessed most people always spoke highly of Russia if only out of fear.

“I don’t know, the bloody fruit loop could be off scaring the pants off any poor sod. I swear I’m going to crack onto that-“

“That?” Russia’s voice sounded right behind him and both Italy and Australia jumped and let out very unflattering yelps of alarm. Jett cleared his throat and made a point of not looking at Russia.

“Ah…nothing mate…” He murmured looking a bit crook as Russia’s presence loomed over them. Funny how he could seem almost invisible before frightening someone. Russia giggled before showing them his basket, having done some shopping himself though it seemed he did it purely for entertainment.

“Russia is done. We go back now, da?” It just sounded like Russia lost interest in scaring people in the shop and wanted a new playground.

“Ah…sure, sure mate. Good onya.” Jett muttered quickly, letting out a sigh of relief when Russia passed them before muttering to himself.

“Crickey, that guy’s got a few kangaroos loose in the top paddock.” Jett muttered with an uncomfortable expression.

A gentle tapping on his shoulder caused Jett to look back at his current passenger who for once had his eyes open in a puzzled expression.

“What a…does that mean?” He asked, confused by what Jett said and getting very literally images of what he said in his mind. Italy was imagining Russia sitting in a paddock with a bunch of kangaroos. Jett chuckled quietly at the question those Kiku also seemed confused.

“I guess…ah it means he’s a little bit thick, a little loopy.” Jett explained casually.

“Does Australia-kun always use such strange phrases?” Kiku asked as he fell into step with Jett, the three walking to the check out while speaking.

“Tell us another one!” Italy added excitedly.

“Geez…not sure what to say. Honestly I don’t think about them very much when I say it…” Jett had to think pretty hard to find something to tell them. “Oh, how about ‘gutful of piss’ or ‘off your face’?” Jett suggested, these weren’t all that hard to understand so he expected they’d know.

“Ah…” Kiku seemed to think carefully before asking uncertainly. “Does it have anything to do with drinking?”

“Too right.” Jett praised Kiku warmly. “Hit the nail on the head. It means they’ve had a skin full o’ it.” Japan struggled with that response, it seemed like he got it right but the way Jett said it was a little bit confusing to the Japanese man. Was he actually ‘ _too_ ’ right..? Was that possible?

“Another, another!” Italy said excitedly, turning it into a game. Jett laughed and played along, the conversation lasted long after they had left the store.

As they walked back along the path they’d come earlier that day they all had their share of bags to carry. Italy only carried one that he held with his arms around Jett’s neck. Including Italy Jett got landed with five bags and by his side Kiku carried two. Russia held the most and seemed to have absolutely no trouble though it looked insanely heavy to the others.

“Ah, it’s a nice arvo isn’t it?” Jett said as he glanced to the sky, the sun was slowly dipping behind the trees and Jett smiled in a longing way. He at least didn’t need to explain that arvo meant afternoon that time. “You should all see the sunsets we get out back, most stunning thing you’d ever see. Never could tell what colour you were gonna get.”

“Australia sounds pretty…” Italy said distantly. “Can we see it one day?”

“Ah? You want to come over?” Jett was surprised but his surprise turned to a friendly smile as he glanced back at Italy. “Yeah, Chris wanted to invite you lot over for Chrissie anyway. Ah sorry, meant Christmas.”

“You don’t have a winter Christmas right Jett?” Italy asked excitedly.

“Yeah, Chrissie is one of the hottest times of year and it’s bloody brilliant. I’ll take you lot down to New South Wales with all the cockroaches, you can see the coathanger and if you’re brave enough you could scale it with me.” There was a pause before Italy murmured timidly.

“Cockroaches…?” Jett snickered quietly.

“It’s what we call the folks in NSW. The coathanger is the harbour bridge.” He explained his slang simply.

“Are you doing that on purpose now Jett?” Kiku asked flatly.

“A little.” Jett laughed cheerfully, the sound more akin to the type of laugh Chris would normally use. “I like to see the confusion on your faces when I say one you’ve never heard. Gotta love the local slang right?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to taunt us with it…” Kiku murmured with a frown and Jett smirked wickedly.

“You know it mate.” It had been a while since Jett felt so at ease. They’d only gone out shopping and done a fairly poor job of it at that but still Jett was over the moon.

As the four travelled down the road and the sun began to dip lower in the sky Jett noticed that Italy had fallen asleep on his back and was beginning to lose his grip on the bag he held. Not wanting to wake him Jett glanced at Kiku who tried to take the bag but was unable to properly grab it. Jett couldn’t grab it because his arms were the only thing keeping Italy from slipping off his back while dozing.

“Russia has it.” Jett tensed when the cold nation turned, absolutely covered in bags as it was and easily took another before turning back to walk without a fuss. Jett didn’t want to talk to him but he had to thank him and he also wanted to ask him about Italy’s little trip.

“Thanks Russia.” Jett said quietly when he fell into stride next to Russia, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

“Don’t mention, da?” Russia smiled at him with the usual innocent glow as they walked on ahead.

“But…well did you really throw Italy around in a shopping trolley?” Jett asked bluntly, blunt was always a good approach.

“Ah, da!” Russia giggled happily. “We played a fun game but little Italy flew a bit fast.” Jett grimaced, Russia really did act innocent but he looked like an absolute sadist to Jett’s eyes.

“Why are you here anyway?” Jett asked cautiously. “I mean Ludwig said you were visiting but….why?”

“Ivan wanted to play.” Was the simple answer but it did not come with the usual smile which surprised Jett the most.

“What…? With us?”

“Da.” Russia looked over to Jett and smiled faintly. “Ivan wanted to play good game with good friends.”

Jett stared at Russia but did not dare voice what was on his mind…Ivan didn’t have friends. Russia noticed the silence and the somewhat sullen look on Jett’s face and his fists tightened slightly though the paper thin smile remained.

“Jett’s the same as Ivan, da?” He began in that honey sweet voice. “Wanting to play good game with friends.”

“I don’t play games.” Jett responded icily, ignoring the fact that he most definitely did play games. Just not the kind Ivan seemed interested in.

“Or do you not have friends?” Russia asked harmlessly. The question caused Jett to flinch and glance up at the smiling giant again. Jett…well he didn’t really have a knack for friends but…recently. Jett looked over his shoulder where Italy slept soundly, his peaceful face being rather cute as he breathed quietly. Jett’s smile returned and he face Russia with his own smiling face.

“I didn’t have friends yeah.” Jett admitted with a careless shrug. “But recently I’ve made heaps friends to play games with. Couldn’t be happier, it’s very warm with these guys.”

Russia stared at Jett, something behind his eyes that the other did not quite understand but the smile was once again forgotten and with a flat voice Russia murmured.

“Is that so…?” Jett looked back at Russia with his own puzzled expression but whatever he may have asked was forgotten when Kiku came to a stop and glanced back at the two.

“Would you mind taking a small break?” He asked politely.

“A break? Well…” Jett glanced back at the sleeping Italy and nodded. “Alright, we can stop for a while.” Jett looked around and spotted what he wanted. A small children’s park by the side of a lake, it had a nice view of the slowly setting sun to.

“Alright here will do, let’s just make sure we head back when it’s dark.” Jett announced and with that they set down their shopping and little sleeping Italy on the softest patch of grass they could find. It was like nothing would wake Feli till he was ready and he continued to sleep even when detached from Jett’s back.

“I won’t be long.” Japan promised, holding a phone in his hand. “I just need to make a quick call.”

“Take your time, we’re not in any hurry.” Jett laughed and waved of Kiku who bowed his head in thanks before vanishing off somewhere to the left of the park to make the call. That left Jett and Russia sitting quietly on the side of the park side hill looking at the lake.

It was warmer outside than in the supermarket though Jett did feel the slight chill of night beginning to set in and wrapped his arms tighter around himself. He never did find the person that owned the jacket he currently wore so at least he still had that even if it was a nicked jacket.

“A summer Christmas.” Jett damn near jumped out of his skin when Russia spoke, not expecting him to say anything. “It sounds nice…”

“Ah, yeah it’s pretty neat I guess.” Jett agreed tensely. “Very warm and friendly.”

“You said you would invite others, da?” Russia asked quietly but he did not smile. “Ivan included?”

“W-What? You would want to come?” Jett asked, completely thrown off by this. He thought Russia would say no if offered and frankly Jett would have been too timid to ask the other or too stubborn.

“Da.” Russia answered flatly.

“O-Oh. Well sure…” Jett murmured rubbing the back of his head before laughing nervously. “Of course you could come Russia.”

“Ivan.” Russia corrected him just as flatly.

“Uh…yeah, right. Ivan you should come spend Christmas with us, it must be very different to Christmas at home for you.” Jett tried to sound genuinely friendly but Russia just made him so uneasy. He didn’t realise that Christmas wasn’t really the same in Russia but Ivan didn’t correct him.

“So you’d invite Ivan?” Russia smiled childishly when he looked at Jett and the Australian’s skin crawled. “Even though you shake like scared child in front of Ivan?”

“Hey!” Jett’s pride flared up before his common sense could. “I am not scared of you Russia.”

Jett found himself flat against the ground after those angry words were snapped. Russia was so huge that he completely blocked out the sun when he pinned Jett down.  
“Ivan.” He corrected Jett again with that deadpanned expression.

“Lying is not good, da?” Russia smiled again and Jett scowled at him while squirming slightly to try and free himself. “Struggling is pointless too.” He added, teasing Jett.

“Little Australia should be more honest. Jett should admit he fears Ivan.” Russia suggested happily. “Da?”

“Don’t be thick.” Jett snapped, surprising Russia. “Oh sure you’re creepy as all hell and I wouldn’t let you within a meter of my little brothers but…I’m not scared of you.”

“Oh…little Australia shouldn’t lie so much…” Ivan said sadly but that only caused Jett’s temper to flare all the more.

“I’m not bloody scared of some icy bastard of a country!” Jett snarled, slamming his knee into Russia. Ivan winced but only a little before smiling coldly at Jett.

“Maybe not of my armies.” Ivan admitted quietly. “Or my size and power but Jett’s still nervous isn’t he? Because we’re so similar.” Jett shut right the hell up after that and Ivan’s smile continued to grow in the telling silence.

“Afraid of being alone, afraid of being despised and feared. That’s what scares little Australia, da?” Ivan’s words were sugar sweet and they choked Jett’s words back.

“Jett is afraid of the cold and the loneliness. Afraid that his brothers will leave and that he’ll vanish.”

“Shut up.” Jett growled but Ivan paid him no mind.

“So little Australia flounders and struggles to force people to stay with him. That’s why little Australia is always so cold.”

“I said shut your fucking mouth!” Jett snapped, able to get a hand free and give Ivan one good swing to the right side of his face. It surprised the giant more than it really hurt and he sat back away from Jett, that purple glow beginning to grow again but Jett was blinded by anger and didn’t take that warning in.

“You giant fucking idiot.” Jett cursed at him furiously. “Don’t force your problems onto me! If you’re lonely make your own friends or some shit.”

“No one wants to be friends with Russia. No one wants to be his ally or his enemy. No one will be Ivan’s friend.” Ivan said simply, it was a fact he learned to live with. “Little countries fear Russia and hate Ivan.”

“If you would knock off the smile once in a while maybe they’d be less afraid.” Jett muttered simply. “Anyone could see how fake that thing is. If you want friends you can’t go around wearing that face. Wear and actual smile for god’s sake.”

“Australia never smiles.” Ivan pointed out. “No one likes Jett anyway.”

“I smiled today didn’t I?” Jett retorted flatly. “When Feli and I were playing. When I was with my _friends_.”

Ivan stared at him, not saying anything. It was as though some part of the icy nation was breaking. Jett knew what it was now, Ivan needed this. Ivan needed someone else to feel the loneliness he did, it was cruel but he wanted someone other than him to be lonely. If Jett now had friends Ivan must have felt completely shattered though his flimsy smile tried to hide it. Ivan was desperately seeking out some kind of understanding though he didn’t seem to know how to go about that need.  
And yeah…Jett got it. He knew what it was like to be alone and left…ahh damn it, now he had to help this poor bastard out.

“Shit mate…” Jett muttered angrily. “Tell you what…knock off you creepy ass shit and I’ll…be your friend.” Jett offered, feeling a sense of dread growing in him. Being friends with Russia felt like suicide pact but hell if people could be friends with his cranky ass why not try to give Russia a hand in too?

“What?” Russia looked taken aback by this and suddenly lent close to Jett causing the other to jump back in alarm. “Little Jett wants to be Ivan’s friend?”

“You heard me, offers there if you like.” Jett murmured uneasily, unable to act natural when Russia was that close to him.

Sudden Russia was smiling and Jett felt as though – while not quite there yet – it felt a tad more natural.

“Da, Ivan would like that very much.” He told Jett brightly. “So come play with Ivan some time.”

“You like warm places yeah? Well if you want to play you could always come to my place for a bit.” Jett suggested offhandedly, unaware of how Russia would jump at it.

“Really? Ivan would like that, da, Ivan would like that a lot!” Russia agreed excitedly. “Ah, Australia’s place is warm and sunny. Do you grow many sunflowers?”

“Sunflowers…?” In Jett’s mind he remembered the dream from that night and frowned. “Well...yeah I guess some places grow them a lot. They get kinda large so it’s fun to lay down and pretend they’re little yellow flower trees when you’re in a field of ‘em.” Jett chuckled at the childish idea.

Russia’s smile all but glowed and for once Jett was sure he was seeing an actual smile. So the frozen fruit loop had a thing for flowers, eh?  
Heh….alright, sunflowers it was.

“Come over.” Jett said finally with a faint smile. “With everyone else, come to my place for Christmas. Please, Ivan.”

“Da.” Ivan agreed happily. “Ivan will come over.”

He might have just sealed his own doom trying to befriend the Russia but Jett was beginning to get the hang of this friendship thing. Maybe…it wouldn’t be so bad to reach out to more countries. Maybe his dream of a peaceful end would actual come true.

He was no closer to stop hating England but…he was more willing to fight for a happy ending.   
If he could punch Ivan and not end up beaten to a pulp by his trusty pipe then Jett could make fucking miracles by this point.

It wasn’t long after that when Japan returned, he was surprised to find Jett and Russia sitting on the park swing set and speaking to one another. Jett was still uneasy but Ivan seemed pleased as they chatted. Kiku didn’t dare ask about it as they began to gather up the bags and Italy once again.

“I could take little one?” Ivan offered Jett when he began to ease Italy back onto his shoulders.

“Nah, all good. Italy might just have a heart attack if he woke up on someone else’s shoulders.” Jett answered with a small smile. Russia didn’t protest any further though Jett noticed the larger nation was sticking very close to him. Russia had hung around all day but Jett minded less now that he understood why.

It was strange to think that Russia had considered them the same and in that respect perhaps he should have lied to Russia and acted as though he was still detached and alone. But bleeding hearts only ended up making a mess of things, it was better that they found Ivan’s heart and put it back in his chest. Rumour had it that it had a nasty habit of falling right out of his chest, perhaps Jett could sew it in? He didn’t know how much to believe the rumours but given it was Russia…well he could buy it.

As Germany’s place came into view little Feli began to stir as though sensing that they were almost home.

“Morning little guy.” Jett greeted him with a small laugh. “Have a nice nap on the way home?”

“Ve…ah!” Italy smiled brightly as he came around and spotted Ludwig’s home. “Yay, home!” He exclaimed brightly.

“Heh, excited are you? Hold on tight then.” Jett smirked and took off running with Italy clinging to him tightly as they came up to Ludwig’s house. Italy was laughing and Jett let out a few small laughs of his own as they dashed towards the front door.

The very second they burst through the door Italy leapt from Jett’s back and landed on wobbly feet, aiming to impress with his landing while Jett breathlessly placed the shopping bags on the ground by the front door. Italy wasn’t quite able to make the entrance he wanted and after a bit of stumbling he feel onto his backside but was still smiling.

“Ve, Jett did you see? Did you see?” Italy asked excitedly, arms flailing from where he sat.

“Yeah little mate.” Jett grinned patting Italy’s head affectionately. “Quite the entrance you got there. I’ll give ya a seven out of ten.”

“Only seven?” Italy whined and Jett lent down to gently flick him between the eyes with a cheerful grin.

“Next time try to keep standing on your own. You’ll do better next time I’m sure.” After praising Feli, Jett began to kick off his shoes and called through the house.

“Ludwig! We’re home.” There was no answer and Germany did not come to greet them. Italy was none the wiser as he buzzed around the room and eventually into the kitchen with pasta on the mind.

“Ludwig?” Jett called again as he stepped inside and again got no answer. Worried he glanced down the hall and noticed that there was a light on in the living room. Perhaps Germany was napping or doing some paper work?

With a shrug and smile Jett walked down the hall just as Ivan and Kiku walked in the door and began to set down their own bags.

“Hey mate.” Jett laughed while pushing open the door. “See we’re back in one piece…?” Jett trailed off as the door swung open.

“Jett, wait!” Germany barked in alarm, wanting Jett to leave immediately before he saw. Sitting in the living room with a cup of tea and Ludwig was England.

Jett just…froze. His hand still on the door and the smile still on his petrified face. Arthur stared back at Jett like he’d seen a ghost and the two of them remained in crushing silence.

Why…?  
Why was England here?   
Why now of all times, after they’d had such a wonderful day?  
Why did England need to show up now!?

Jett was terrified.

And he’d had such a nice day….

 

....  
….  
….

Allies- End.


	10. Affliction

_England’s Visit._

 

Germany quietly set up the living room. He went about the mundane task with a certain glow about him, oh sure this meeting was a stretch from friendly or enjoyable but Ludwig could not remove the small smile on his face.

Oh yes, this was one huge mess and they were bound to take a while to mend but with things as they were now Ludwig could see a wonderful outcome.  
He’d have Gilbert come home and rebuild what he’d destroyed before grounding him for the foreseeable future and Ludwig would even be kind enough to arrange for Christian and Toby to see their brother and hopeful iron out their last dispute – no vital regions involved.  
Arthur was simply the last problem to remove before this bloody affair could be put behind them. For that he still had Russia lingering if things got ugly.

For his meeting with Arthur Germany had the good sense to have his new allies go out, a simple shopping errand to keep them entertained while he tied up the last loose end. He knew that they were not terribly pleased with him however, having allowed Russia to go with them. It must have been uncomfortable for them to escort the scary nation but having him without someone to keep an eye on him was simply not an option.

Humming his national anthem to himself Ludwig finished laying out his best tea set, he felt the need to approach Arthur in a welcoming, homely manner even if his feelings towards the other were anything but friendly. Ludwig was aware that his good mood was a little bit extreme and his faint smile had not gone by unnoticed by Italy who may have just dropped dead of a heart attack had Kiku not been there to distract him from the abnormal behaviour Ludwig was displaying.  
Ludwig never really _looked_ happy, he could feel it but on the outside there was usually very little expression so he did understand the other’s reaction to his current behaviour. However even when in his most glowing mood his smile would barely pass for a small smile by a normal person’s standards, though on Ludwig it was certainly a sight to behold.

All of the blood lust and sinister intent had just…bled away from him. Oh, Ludwig was still barking mad no doubt there. But he no longer wanted to see the possible war he’d had his eyes set on before. Arthur wanted war even less so things were shaping up to have a fairly easy, non-violent conclusion. How lovely.

Ludwig glanced up from the now set up table, towards the window. It was beginning to get dark and not for the first time Germany worried over his allies. The three were out with Russia as a form of protection for them and a way to have someone keep an eye on Russia at the same time. They were not late but Ludwig still worried. He wanted this meeting to come to a close quickly and quietly so that Jett would not need to see England at all.

But England was taking his time.

Agitation slowly began to leak into Ludwig as he waited impatiently for Arthur to appear at the door. Was the Englishman making him wait on purpose? Was he trying to get under the ever punctual Ludwig’s skin? Perhaps, but Germany knew he had to remain calm, he had to pull himself back under control.  
He’d exercised that control this morning when he and Jett had been in the bathroom.

It would have been easy to give into his more feral urges when he had the small male trapped in with him. It had been terribly tempting to do so, it would have been so wonderfully easy to abuse Jett in that moment but Ludwig had been able to rein himself in and keep his much needed self-control.  
If he was able to keep this as a continuous trend he would not need to worry about breaking his new companion or scaring him off, it would take effort but Ludwig was determined to do so. For Jett’s sake.

“Gott.” Ludwig cursed, tapping his finger against his knee in irritation as his patience began to thin out. “Where is he…?” England was taking too long, he was not normally this tardy.

Before Ludwig’s head could all but explode however there was a small noise at the door, a gentle tapping of someone’s knocking. Jolting up right a relieved smile crossed his face before Ludwig composed himself and stood to answer the door.

He was not sure what he expected to see when he swung the door open for England that evening. Some part of Germany suspected he’d be greeted with hostility or desperation by the other, that the England he saw on the other side would be a wreck but the more logical side of Ludwig knew that wouldn’t be the case…and that disappointed him.  
Ludwig would have liked to see England anxious and broken.

Instead when Ludwig opened the front door that evening he was greeted with the cool and composed England he knew best. The other was adjusting his cuffs before the door was opened and very casually glanced over to Ludwig, letting nothing but his hateful eyes betray his true feelings.

“Good evening Germany.” He greeted the other with a thin smile. “I trust you didn’t wait too long?”

Ludwig smiled back pleasantly as his grip on the door tightened, a vein popping on the back of his hand. Oh, he waited more than long enough, the cheeky little…

“Nein, not at all.” Ludwig lied in a polite tone. “Bitte, come in.”

After inviting Arthur in Ludwig left the doorway, heading back towards the living room with England in tow. The quiet click of the door shutting behind them caused Ludwig to glance back and notice the unreserved scowl Arthur held for Ludwig when his back was turned. The sight made Germany smirk just slightly though he kept his amusement to himself.

“You’re looking well Germany.” Arthur spoke in a conversation tone though he struggled to keep away the cold edge to his words.

“Danke, I’m feel quite good as of late. It’s a shame, you seem a little less comfortable.” Ludwig responded calmly and without a touch of mocking in his tone added. “How does your eye feel?”

Arthur’s fingers went to the eye patch still securely over his face. The sting had not faded with time and he was still blind, he did not know if he would ever recover his sight.

“Manageable.” He spat, not trying to hide his contempt this time.

Ludwig allowed Arthur to walk into the living room first, holding the door open for him with that same pleasant expression though neither of them were anything close to friendly at that point. With the poise Ludwig had come to expect of England the other seated himself comfortably on one of the lounges, his gaze set on the still hot tea awaiting him.

A thousand thoughts must have been going through the British man’s head. He must have been considering whether Germany was going to try and trap him or not and if he should be wary of the tea in front of him. Germany watched with mild amusement as the clogs in Arthur’s head began to grind together slowly, judging every little thing in the living room.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop as Ludwig took his seat opposite his guest. The two looking at one another with cautious eyes, sizing the other up in silence as the sound of the ticking clock broke the eerie quiet with every little tick of its turning needle.

Arthur did not reach for the offered tea as of yet and Ludwig outright ignored his own. Although it was tense and deathly quiet between the two there was a noticeable amount of electricity in the air. Excitement.  
Ludwig had to fight the smile down while England had to keep himself for fidgeting. For better or worse they were both excited, one of them would be coming away from this meeting with Australia and both were convinced it would be them.

“Ahem.” Arthur cleared his throat and forced himself to be the first to speak, after all it was he that called this meeting in the first place. “On the matter of our recent…affairs. I believe things have long since gone past sensible reason and logic.”  He began uneasily, careful not to word it too aggressively.

“Ja.” Ludwig answered simply in a very agreeable tone. “I would hate for things to escalate any further than this.”

Arthur was – understandably – taken aback by the attitude that Ludwig displayed. He’d come into that meeting fully intending to try and argue out a truce with Ludwig who had seemed so adamant about starting a conflict with him earlier.

As England’s green hues bore into Ludwig’s cold blue ones there was another small stretch of silence as England tried to gauge what it was that Germany wanted. He had said not a day before that war was on his mind but now he was agreeing that conflict was not the way to go? It seemed too convenient to Arthur, too easy. There had to be a catch or it must have been a flat out lie.

“I propose neither of us take action. No politics or warfare involved. A peaceful resolution to this little game.” Ludwig suggested evenly, further stunning the Brit.

“You seem surprised Britain.” Ludwig spoke eventually, barely able to contain the mocking note that slipped into his tone. “Did you expect something else?”

“W-Well…” Arthur stumbled before rubbing the back of his head with that polite smile. “I did not think we’d agree so easily. It’s a relief.” He admitted quietly as he took up the tea cup into his hands, unable to supress the relieved sigh that left his lips. He couldn’t believe his good fortune to have this end on a peaceful note and so quickly at that.

“Ja. This settles things very easily. Danke, for coming here to iron out this misunderstanding...” With a smile Ludwig reached for his cup of tea, a casual air surrounding him as he finally gave voice to the unspoken catch.

“I’ll be sure to inform little bruder of our agreement. Jett will be relieved.”

Arthur all but choked on his tea.

“Ah, Britain are you okay?” Ludwig asked with a false act of concern as Arthur spluttered and coughed.

“Wha-What the bloody hell do you mean by that?” Arthur finally choked out. “ _Your_ brother?” He demanded, anger getting the better of him.

“Is there something wrong with that?” Ludwig asked with a sly smile. “Jett belongs to me.”

“You were to return Jett into my care!” Arthur snapped furiously. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Change of plans.” Ludwig answered flatly. “Australia remains with me. I’ll also be asking both Christian and Toby to come and see their brother to resolve their little family spat.”

Arthur looked as though the clogs that had been grinding in his head had all just shattered and he was left there staring at Ludwig with wide eyes, hands trembling on the cup.  
There had been a catch, Ludwig had no intention of returning what he stole.

“He’s quite happy here with us. I see no reason for him to be going with you Britain, it would only upset him.” Ludwig spoke smoothly, enjoying the obvious suffering his words brought to England.

“He’s not your brother!” Arthur growled, setting his tea cup down with a loud clank. “You’re deluded if you think for one bloody second that he will ever be-”

“Britain.” Ludwig cut across him coolly. “He belongs to me. No matter what you call my relationship to Australia he is mein and I will not return him to you.”

Arthur cringed from those sharp eyes that stared into him. Ludwig was like a stone as he stared the smaller nation down and Arthur got to see what it was Ludwig seemed to hide so very well. He was completely barking mad.   
His insanity and desperation reflected in those glowing blue orbs as they stared at one another, it was almost as if Ludwig was a doll with those unnatural eyes peering into England.   
It unnerved Arthur but more than anything else it made him fear for his little brother’s safety.

“I made sure of this already. Even if you were to ‘save’ him in some way he wouldn’t go with you nor would he stay by your side.” Gradually a smile came onto Ludwig’s face though it held not so much as a shred of genuine warmth, it was cold and empty. “It’s pointless to even try. He’s been claimed by me entirely.”

“You warped him.” England growled accusingly. “Messed with his head! He’ll come to his senses eventually.”

“And I’ll break his sense of justice a second time.” Ludwig replied bluntly. “And then a third, and a fourth. I’ll break him down as many times as I need to. He is mein.”

“I must thank you though Britain. You made it easy.” Ludwig said mockingly while taking a sip of his tea. “He was broken long before I picked him up, it was easy to work with your left overs.”

“Why you…” England’s hands tightened into fists but Ludwig merely smirked.

“Are you going to strike me, Great Britain?” Arthur flinched back and grit his teeth. “As expected, you can’t. If you do try to fight back you’ll start that war you’re so afraid of. No matter how you look at it…you’ve lost. I’ve played my cards and you have none left.”

“It was a fun game and now that I’ve won, I’ll enjoy the spoils.” Arthur’s gaze narrowed as Ludwig’s grin widened. “Funny when it’s the other way around, Ja?”

“Now listen here!” Arthur shouted, slamming his hands down onto the table as he stood, fury driving him to be reckless. “If you think I’ll just sit back and let you-”

“You have no choice.” Ludwig reminded him sharply.

“….Germany.” Arthur muttered quietly, glaring down at the table under his fists. “I’ve changed my mind also.”

Ludwig’s smile dropped at those words and his body tensed slightly. As he looked at England now he could see the real conflict going on behind his façade and Ludwig knew immediately that things would not be ending on a peaceful note. That was now impossible.

“If war was your original goal…I hope you enjoy it.” Arthur spoke coldly. “Because I will not let this indiscretion of yours go unpunished.”

“Ah…” Ludwig breathed with a faint smile. “So…war is it then?”

“War it is.” Arthur confirmed darkly, all logic gone to the wind. “Return what you stole now and perhaps I’ll over look it.” He offered Ludwig one last chance.

“Nein.” It was a cold and confident refusal. “I will not give up what is mein.”

“Ludwig, we’re home!”

Both nations froze at the sound of a familiar voice calling to them.

Arthur looked up towards the door where the sounds were coming from, gentle footfalls nearing the door. Arthur wasn’t sure what to think, what to expect of his apparently insane little brother.

Ludwig also stared at the door, teeth grit in an angry grimace. Why had they been home now? Why did they have to return at this exact moment? Of all the bad timing…

“Ludwig?” Jett’s voice was closer now and the footsteps louder but neither dared move, neither knew what to do as the other approached.

“Hey mate.” Jett sounded happy, he even laughed while speaking to what he thought was just Ludwig. “See we’re back in one piece…?” The door swung open…

“Jett, wait!” Germany barked, sitting up straight as the door opened. He had to keep Arthur and Jett apart, sometimes Jett’s feelings towards his big brother were unpredictable and Ludwig did not want things turning in the Englishman’s favour. But it was too little too late.

Standing in the doorway Jett’s smile still on his face as he turned to a statue where he stood. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights as he looked in on the strange meeting. It was as though he’d just gone completely blank, unable to process a single logical thought.

Arthur stared back at his little brother. He had been expecting and fearing many things when he first saw Jett again but he hadn’t expected…. _this_. Jett was absolutely glowing.  
It was as though he’d just had the best day of his life and every single step he took was one he enjoyed. Although his mood seemed ruined by this sudden surprise Arthur could still see the happiness he had been feeling not too long before entering this room.

“Jett…” Arthur slowly turned to Jett, afraid if he moved too quickly the other would react rashly. He held his hands up in a surrender kind of fashion, the motion one would make when approaching a scared or injured animal.

At his name Jett regained sense and control of his body and with his hand still on the door he staggered back a step away from Arthur, his expression becoming a mix of confusion and pain – it was almost as though seeing the elder brother brought him some kind of physical harm.

“W-Why?” He asked breathlessly. “Why are you…here?” Jett sounded small when he spoke but there was the usual anger somewhere in there. It was a maddening mix of uncertain fear and anger.

“Jett, lad…” Arthur took another step towards his little brother.

“No! You shouldn’t be here. Why are you here? Why now?” He moaned clinging himself to the door as he shied away from his former brother.

Ludwig had thought he would need to step in but this seemed to do Arthur more harm than it did help so he was pleased to sit back and watch England fumble with his attempts.

“I…I came to bring you home lad.” Arthur spoke softly, a bit of desperation in his voice. “Like you asked me to, you called me to come get you…remember?”

Ludwig’s jaw clenched. Red tinting his vision at those words.

“I…I don’t want to go. J-Just forget I asked, go away.” Jett muttered quietly, avoiding Arthur’s gaze.

Smiling nervously Arthur took another apprehensive step forward, noticing that Jett was looking at his shoes as he came closer but did not try to run any further. Encouraged Arthur was able to get within arm’s length of Jett, he knew what it was his little brother needed now. He just had to be a little more assertive, he had to put in the effort to regain Jett.  
Even if he was pushed away and snarled at, Arthur knew he had to push on because that was just how Jett was. He had such a dishonest little brother…

“Lad, I’m sorry.” Arthur spoke quietly to Jett. “Everyone is waiting back home. Chris and Toby…they’re waiting for you.”

Jett raised his head slightly at his brother’s words. Eyes flashing slightly as he thought of Chris and Toby, could they really be waiting on him?

“Are they…angry?” Jett sounded like a scared child but it only encouraged Arthur.

“Not at all.” He reassured Jett hastily, taking a step forward a little too fast and causing Jett to recoil slightly. Right, baby steps, baby steps. “They want you home, we could hardly stop Chris from coming himself.”

“They’re safe?” Jett asked a little more normally. “Not…hurt?”

Arthur hesitated, he couldn’t tell Jett the condition of his brothers. That pause caught Jett’s notice and Ludwig decided this was getting far too dangerous and stepped in.

“Can they even stand?” He asked casually. “From the amount of blood I found outside after that explosion _you_ orchestrated I assumed they’d be bedridden.”

Arthur cursed Ludwig silently as he noticed Jett’s hand tightening into a fist. Ludwig had said it the correct way, causing guilt in Jett and forcing blame onto Arthur all in the same breath.

“T-They’re resting.” Arthur tried to recover but it seemed Jett was becoming hostile again as his shoulders tensed up.

“Resting?” He demanded furiously. “If you hadn’t blown up the place they would be perfectly fin-…!” Jett stopped dead when he looked up to glare at Arthur. The sight of Arthur’s damaged eye reflecting in his eyes.

Jett’s shoulders began to shake as he stared at the eye patch, remembering having tried to carve up his older brother when having given him the injury. Arthur noticed his horrified gaze and quickly pressed his hand to his face with a shaky smile.

“It’s fine lad. Can’t feel a thing.” He lied but Jett just kept staring. It was as though he was caught between hating his brother and wanting to hug him in the same moment. This sense of guilt that Jett felt when he saw his own handy work made both Ludwig and Arthur uneasy.

“Jett…?” Arthur’s gaze noticed something wrong with Jett in return – or rather the lack of something. “Where is your necklace?”

Jett’s fingers when to his throat where the necklace should have been, murky green eyes widening as he was reminded of his absence. Ludwig saw the dark haze beginning to cloud Jett’s regretful eyes and knew that in a moment Arthur would be sorry for standing so close to Jett.

“The explosion…” Jett growled, hand clenching into a tight fist as his eyes narrowed into a hateful glare. “That you caused….broke my heart. _My heart_.” He seethed furiously.

“N-No lad you got it wrong!” Arthur tried to defend himself but Jett wasn’t hearing it. Arthur knew the importance of that necklace to Jett. He’d seen it many times, he’d even seen Jett use it as a life line when he was at his lowest. It was for all intents and purposes his heart. If it had been broken…

“Do you have… _any_ idea how that felt?” Jett hissed lowly. “It really hurt, Arthur it really fucking _hurt_.”

Jett’s eyes opened wide, iris shrinking down to the size of a pin head as all reason was lost to grief and anger. Jett raised his fist furiously, planning to strike Arthur down with all of his strength but a firm set of large arms wrapped around Jett’s upraised arms, holding him back from beating Arthur. Infuriated Jett struggled furiously, tears burning his eyes as he tried to get at England.

“You bastard!” He shouted when his attempts to free himself from the iron like grasp of his captor failed. “Why? Why must you take everything from me? Will you not be happy until you’ve kill me, Arthur?” Jett screamed at the other.

“Now, now.” Jett’s captor cooed gently with an ever present smile. “Little Australia needs to calm down, da?”

“I-Ivan?” Jett glanced over his shoulder at the smiling male that restrained him, unable to understand why he was being held back in the first place.

Britain was so startled by Jett’s outburst that he had not even tried to protect himself from the attack and it was purely because Jett was restrained that he had not been struck. As he watched Jett struggling Arthur recalled the last time that he’d seen Jett so desperate to escape a captor and frowned as the guilt returned.   
To make matters worse Arthur could now see just how far gone Jett was, to flick between rage and fear so sporadically, without any rhyme or reason…his little brother was just about as crazed as his German captor.

England opened his mouth to try again but gradually closed it with no words coming out. He knew what had to be done now, simple pleas and appeals to reason would get him nowhere with Jett, the only thing his violent little brother understood were actions, Arthur had to take action to prove himself…so action it was.

Turning on his side Arthur glared at Germany, all the hatred in the world summed up into a single look.

“Have it your way Kraut.” Arthur seethed, the evidence of a once great and powerful empire all but radiated from the angry Brit. “For now I’ll retreat. But when I return next – and I will very soon – I’ll you are going to regret doing this.”

“Are you really threatening me so thoughtlessly England?” Ludwig asked, voice cold as he stared at the other.

“A promise.” Arthur corrected him sharply. “I will not fail my brother a second time and I will not lose to you. Not in this fight. That there is _my_ little brother!” Arthur told him firmly, as though there was never any doubt in the first place.

“I am not going to let you do whatever you damn well please with my family!”

Jett had stopped struggling against Ivan and stared blankly at his big brother. It had been a while since he saw Arthur stand so tall and against Germany he seemed almost back to the empire he’d once been. Jett had not seen that fire in his brother in so many years…and to think now it was directed at Germany for his sake. After all Jett had learned about Arthur he never was able to figure out the other’s feelings towards him.  
What was his big brother thinking…? What was he doing?   
Why did Arthur never make sense to Jett?  
Damn it Arthur. Just… _why_?

Arthur turned his back on Germany and began to stalk towards Jett and Ivan. Russia’s arms curled tighter around Jett and the other instinctively shied away from his approaching brother, noting the heat that radiated off of him as he neared. But Arthur did not lash out or curse at Jett as he expected, instead he stopped in front of the two during his path towards the door.

“I won’t abandon you this time.” He murmured to Jett, voice barely above a whisper. Arthur’s hand reached out and rest against Jett’s head gently, a gesture he once did often when Jett was a child. “This time I’ll be by your side Jack.”

“It is time you be letting go.” Ivan told Arthur cheerfully though the temperature did drop dramatically. “Da?”

“Hmpf. Very well.” Arthur’s haze gaze turned on Ivan’s smiling face. “I suppose I’ll see you on the battle field as well.” With that he turned away and left the room without another word.

All three nations waited in silence until they heard the loud slam of the front door, signalling Arthur’s departure.

“Ivan…” Jett muttered, straining his arms slightly. “T-Tight…”

Russia blinked innocently down at Jett, noticing how his small body seemed to bend in his grasp. Jett was quite a breakable little thing. Ivan giggled before releasing his arms and allowing the other to breathe and rub his sore joints.

“Thanks for your help and all but did you have to dislocate my bloody shoulders to do it?” Jett grumbled, seeming to return to normal once Arthur had left.

“Ah, sorry but little Jett is fragile.” Ivan explained simply, his sorry sounding like a fib.

“Do I need to punch you again?” Jett growled back indignantly, unaware of Germany walking towards him until the other had grabbed him painfully by the wrist.

“Ah? Hey Ludwig what gives-?” Jett started to complain before he was all but dragged from the living room, shouting his complaints as Russia watched without the usual smile. Ivan did not stop Ludwig from forcibly pulling Jett away from the room, he did not even voice his displeasure but then again Ivan was not kind enough to do anything to help the little Australian out.

“Hey!” Jett was trying to get the silent Ludwig’s attention as he was jerked up the stairs. “Are you deaf or what? I’m talking to you.”

Jett winced at Ludwig’s grip on his arm tightened, almost to breaking point. Desperately Jett began to claw at the offending hand but found it was about as effective as scratching a brick wall. Jett’s cringed in pain as he continued to tug against Ludwig, fearing his wrist would snap in a moment and he knew he wouldn’t be coming away without bruises, at best.

“Germany. You’re hurting me damn it, let go!” Jett shouted even as he was forcibly jerked into Germany’s room. Only then was his arm released as Ludwig flung him inside so that he could slam the door shut and lock it.

Jett froze, feeling a familiar chill feeling the room. It was as though a switch had been flicked and even Jett’s thick skull knew it was dangerous to be with Ludwig right then. When Ludwig turned to look at him Jett’s heart jumped into his throat seeing those cold eyes glowering down at him. Scrambling back frantically Jett tripped over his own two feet in his hast to escape, landing painfully on his backside but still he continued to back away from the approaching German.

 _I should have run away. Should have run away, should have run away!_   
Jett thought frantically but he knew those thoughts were paper thin. Everything he thought he knew and believed held as much weight as a leaf blown on a summer wind, he had no sense of self anymore. He was simply whatever the situation demanded he be, whatever his captor demanded he be. If he was with England or Germany it didn’t matter, Jett had nothing he could solidly identify as himself anymore.

Jett cried out in alarm as Ludwig’s large hands came down on him, grabbing hold of his upraised hands. Jett had tried to simply shield his head but Ludwig was always stronger and easily tore those arms away from his face and not a moment later they were pinned back against the wall behind Jett.

Without thinking Jett began to thrash and squirm, shouting the familiar chorus of ‘get off’ and ‘let me go’. None of it did him any good as Ludwig trapped him in, kneeling in between his wildly kicking legs.

“Halt!” Ludwig barked the command angrily, tightening his grip on Jett’s wrists, putting a stop to that agitating struggling.

What had he done? He arrived home on time, he had brought what Ludwig asked him to and there had been no problems on the way. Why was he so angry? It wasn’t Jett’s fault that England was here, it wasn’t his fault! It wasn’t!

Jett’s desperate thoughts were cut short as that grip loosened just slightly. Timidly Jett looked up at Ludwig’s scowling gaze.

“You’re thinking about escaping again, ja?” He asked quietly, his voice laced in venom. “Thinking about England again?”

“N-No, you got it wrong!” Jett exclaimed quickly, trying again to free himself, to reassure Ludwig he wasn’t going to misbehave. “I’m not thinking about-”

“Liar!” Ludwig snapped and that rough touch returning as his eyes seemed to burn straight through Jett. It was terrifying, Jett was trembling because he knew exactly what it was Ludwig was thinking, exactly what kind of punishment he would implement if not reassured appropriately.

“England was right…” He added coldly. “You did call out for help… _tsk_.” Ludwig glared down at Jett, accusation in his gaze, it was as though the simple reminder of Jett’s earlier attempts to run away still personally insulted him and added salt to the wound.

Jett’s eyes widened slightly as he was reminded of this. He had called England for help hadn’t he? Why would he do that…? After all he was afraid of the malicious nation that was his former brother wasn’t he? But wasn’t he also afraid of Ludwig? Where did the truth begin and the lies end? Jett didn’t know anymore, he didn’t know why he called for England and why he had not left with him today. Jett held nothing in his brain but confused questions. It had gotten to the stage when Jett simply wondered…who am I now?

“F-Fine…” Jett muttered quietly, becoming limp in those calloused hands, gaze dropping to the floor as a kind of defeat washed over him. “Say whatever the hell you want…”

 _The truth is I don’t know what a lie is anymore…._  
Jett closed his eyes and in the darkness he saw the things he always saw. Chris and Zea looked so lively in his mind, so incredibly happy…just the way Jett thought they always should look. He saw his brother’s smiles, their happy faces held with outstretched hands – waiting for Jett to come home. Jett wanted to take those hands but somehow he could not.

Ludwig’s hands let go of his wrists and began to pull at his clothes. Jett kept his eyes firmly shut, feeling the cold air hitting his body as he was exposed but Jett dared not look. Even as he was stripped down shamefully he continued to instead look at that familiar images in the darkness behind his eyes.  
Jett flinched as Ludwig’s cold hands pressed against his exposed body, coarse in nature but fleeting in touch as they informally danced across his body.

 _If I was lying to you or not I don’t know…_   
Behind Jett’s closed eyes he could see other familiar forms. Italy’s smiling face after he was comforted gently by a tolerant version of himself. In this new vision Italy smiled past his tears and offered his hand excitedly to Jett as well. Expecting Jett to take them without hesitation.

Jett cried out at Ludwig’s rough hands touched him in places he knew would cause the smaller male discomfort – though he could not call it painful. Not really. Not yet.

 _I wouldn’t lie to you if I could help it…._   
Kiku came next, quietly laughing in a polite manner behind his kimono as he shared manga with Jett. In the darkness there was the tint of Kiku’s cherry blossom trees but they could not light up everything with their gentle glow. In the shade of the cherry blossom trees Kiku held an offered book out to Jett.

Another painfully pleasant touch to his chest, pinching sensitive skin cruelly. Jett tried to stop the sounds his made, bitting his lip sharply to keep them in. Ludwig knew how to torture him sweetly, it was worse than if he’d simply hit him.

“Don’t.” Ludwig’s voice came out coarsely and sounded terribly close to Jett’s ear. “Let them out.”

Ludwig’s large hands easily handled the compliant nation and Jett found himself being flipped over, large hands cautiously holding his body close even in this new position. Still Jett did not dare open his eyes.

 _I’ve been alone for all this time…._  
In the dark Jett saw Ivan smiling at him in that eerie was of his. One hand clutching a sunflower and the other tightly grasping what looked like a faucet but despite his smiling it looked as though Ivan was crying. In the darkness Jett smiled faintly at the other and held out his hand, wishing he’d stop that silly crying.

A slight pressure danced over Jett’s lips, causing his hands to tighten into tautly balled up fists. The pressure continued until Jett had to give in and open his mouth, allowing the invading fingers inside.

 _I haven’t told the truth in so many years, I don’t remember how to do it…_   
In the darkness Prussia grinned at him, glasses of beer in either hand and with one he offered the drink towards Jett. Prussia laughed in his normal annoying way and somehow it broke Jett’s heart.

Jett’s lip began to bleed as he felt the beginnings of an invasion on Germany’s part. It was just one finger which was fairly considerate but it felt sickening inside of Jett.

 _If I’m only able to tell lies with this mouth…  
_ America turned to look at Jett and grinned with an arrogant thumbs up. It seemed he was looking for backup in Jett as he held out his hand to the other through the darkness. By his side the young boy Jett had known as his big brother also stood, waiting to play another hero game with him no doubt.

Another finger and a cry got free from Jett. He turned to bitting his fist instead, fully aware of the way Ludwig’s eyes studied his every little move.

 _I’d rather be silent and unseen…_  
Canada nervously waved, his little polar bear neatly tucked under his chin as he offered a shaky hand to Jett. By his side the young boy that was often got the short end of his brother’s games hide himself against his older self’s leg, waving shyly as well.

Jett’s back arched with an unfamiliar cry of pleasure falling from his mouth as that precious place in his body was gently coaxed by the invading fingers.  
“Found it…” Ludwig’s quiet voice murmured, sounding pleased as Jett’s body began to shake and quiver in a different way.

 _If I told you I hate you….  
_ For a second Jett’s world was blank, the darkness somewhat suffocating without the presence of the happy images that comforted him. Then in the haze of the black world Jett caught a glance of a familiar pair of green eyes and a black and silver iron cross shining through the dark.

“Sto- Ngh..!” Jett’s voice became free as one hand weakly pushed back against Ludwig’s assaulting hand. His fingers clumsily pushed against the other, uselessly slipping and sliding over Ludwig’s gloved hand, unable to do so much as grab him properly as his brain began to turn to mush. But still his eyes remained shut.

 _Or if I said I love you…_  
Arthur was smiling in that familiar bitter sweet way of his. Looking at Jett with an expression he couldn’t properly name, if it was kind or cruel he couldn’t tell. Ever so slowly Arthur’s hand rose and just as in the visions before this Arthur in the darkness offered his hand to Jett.

Ludwig had not yet claimed Jett but he was already in this sorry state. The heat burned through every part of Jett’s body, blinding him to sense and reason and binding him to his abuser again. Ludwig was patient after all he would have plenty of time after Jett had lost his mind to do what he wanted.

 _If I said that to either of you…_  
Ludwig stood opposite Arthur facing to the side, away from both Jett and Arthur, but the two were not divided by distance as they waited for Jett. Ludwig’s hand outstretched in a way that made it seem he was not terribly invested in the whole thing but still he had that stubborn nervous look on his face as he also waited for Jett to take his hand.

Jett’s brain went blank as the unfamiliar burst of white light flashed over his eyes, followed by a violent shudder and jerking of his hips. It took him a few minutes after the sudden burst of pleasure to realise what had happened and when his did, guilt followed. Bowing his head down into his arms Jett gnawed on his already bleeding lip, tears budding at the corners of his eyes.

 _Would that also be a lie?_  
Jett’s eyes did not open but in the haze of afterglow and growing shame his eyes shifted as though they intended to do so, shaking the dark comforting world as they did. In a panic Jett reached out desperately in the darkness, wishing to take someone’s hand, anyone’s, hell even America’s would do – but it was too late. His eyes opened and he lost the comforting world he’d conjured up behind his eyes.

“Jett.” Ludwig spoke quietly to him, voice lacking the warmth he sometimes showed towards the other. “We’re not finished yet.”

Jett’s outstretched hand gradually curled back to his chest and tightened into a fist as tears were born anew. Those images he made to comfort himself…they were probably also lies. If Jett couldn’t stop lying to himself how could he be expected to tell anyone else the truth?

Closing his eyes Jett rest his head in his arms in defeat.  
This time the comfort did not come with the closing of his eyes and this time he was alone in the dark. It was a familiar feeling but he took no relief in that familiarity.

 _Yeah…_   
Jett thought dully as the real punishment began.  
_They’d probably also be lies…_

_All is a lie in love and war, right?_

 

….  
….  
….

 

_In the Heat Haze._

 

It was dark in the house when Germany sat up. His room was a mess, something that didn’t sit well with him but for some reason Ludwig couldn’t force himself to fix it. His bed was the worst of all, sheets pulled up and tangled around its two occupants, perhaps they’d gotten a little too rowdy that night. Sitting in an unnaturally relaxed fashion Ludwig glanced over at the sleeping nation by his side.

A single sheet was haphazardly tossed over both Jett and Ludwig’s naked bodies, at least covering them sufficiently should a certain young Italian decide to burst in uninvited during the night time hours. As Jett slept Ludwig noticed the way he desperately clutched the pillow to his chest as his body trembled and shook slightly.

His light flesh was littered with newly formed bruises, the nastiest bruises already beginning to swell and turn a sickly shade of purple. In some places Jett was still bleeding, the self-inflicted wound on his lip still seeping the dark crimson liquid, it was one of the few injuries that did not belong to Ludwig’s hands.

As the older male looked down on the sleeping body of his prisoner there was a hallow expression sitting on his face. He did not look on Jett with malicious or cruel eyes, he simply stared in a disconnected way, as though he had no part in this scene. Once the red haze had faded from Ludwig’s eyes he sincerely wished he did not belong in this setting, it was the first time he’d felt such a disheartening feeling so immediately after laying hands on Jett. It had not been planned, it had not been cautiously calculated and Ludwig had acted purely out of anger and fear.

If he could take it back he would have, if he could bring himself to openly admit he was wrong he would have. If he knew how to apologise to the other properly he would but he could do none of those things. This control and order was fragile, if for a second Ludwig showed any sign of weakness or uncertainty, it would break.  
Ludwig knew this, he knew it better than anyone else ever could and yet still he managed to doubt himself.

Frustrated Ludwig threw the sheet off and worked on making himself presentable for his own home. He had too many guests wandering about to be unsightly.  
As Ludwig dressed the moon was still in the sky, offering light into the otherwise black room. It poured in through the open window and shone back on Ludwig’s face through the mirror. As he finished pulling on his clothes Ludwig’s eye caught the sight of Jett curling into a tighter protective ball, shivering against the cold that his warm blooded nation was not use to after Ludwig had kicked the sheets off them both.

Turning back towards the bed Ludwig watched in silence as the other trembled. It was strange but even though the air’s slightly chilly temperature had never bothered Ludwig it always seemed warmer when Jett was around. Sometimes when Jett was angry it almost seemed to burn and when he smiled it felt like the summer days in Australia did. It was a strange kind of heat that Jett carried with him, Chris carried it as well and Ludwig could only presume that this trait extended to the smallest of the down under brothers.

With a small sigh Ludwig walked back to the bedside in silence and dragged the sheet back over Jett’s naked form, followed by a heavier blanket. Ludwig sat with him, sitting quietly on the edge of the bed with a single hand gently running through Jett’s free hair as he waited for the shivering to stop.  
The moon fell over both of them though Ludwig’s body shielded Jett’s eyes from the soft moonlight’s white glow. In this gentle light Jett looked a little bit less rugged, a little less worn and broken but Ludwig could not look past the angry marks that littered his body.

He noticed bite marks from where he’d bitten Jett’s neck hard enough to draw blood and other small bruises from where he’d marked down his neck and shoulders. The crueller side of Ludwig was angry that those marks would fade eventually as they marked Jett as his property and even though a country had given them to Jett they would eventually still heal but other than that the marks now just seemed hideous to Ludwig. They were proof of his failure, proof of his lack of control and no doubt they’d remind Jett of a fairly unpleasant evening.

Ludwig’s petting hand stopped mid-motion when he noticed that Jett’s body was no longer shaking. His face slowly relaxed as the warmth reached him and his clutching fingers slowly released their claw like grip on the pillow he hugged. With those same tired eyes Ludwig watched with a passive expression as Jett’s sleep became more relaxed, he’d be sore the next morning but for now he would rest. The hand that remained tangled in the long strands of blonde hair gently ran through them a few more times, enjoying the gentle heat that Jett’s very being radiated.

Jett was cold by nature but his body was always warm and even if he did not mean to do it he warmed those that he touched. That was not to say he made everyone happy or that he was all that much of a nice person…but he did warm the air. It was as though he was silently trying to guard others against the cold, silently trying to offer up a trait others may like him for. He spoke as though he enjoyed being alone but he was quietly screaming for others to see him. As of late…that screaming had begun to become louder.

“Liar…” Ludwig murmured quietly as his gentle hand stroked the other’s head, a massive contrast to the abusive touches he’d received earlier.  
“Why are you such an awfully dishonest little nation…?” Ludwig sighed heavily, leaning down to press and soft kiss to his forehead before standing from the bed and leaving the room – leaving Jett to sleep peacefully without Ludwig there to frighten him.

It was still late and this was the second time Ludwig’s usually strict sleep pattern was broken, soon there’d be no order in how he slept. That wasn’t to say he was going to start taking naps like Italy was so fond of, no he’d just be without the proper amount of rest.

“I’ll get some work done.” Ludwig decided with a single firm nod as he set out to get coffee. From what had happened that day it seemed they’d have a real fight on their hands. He expected that Arthur would first attack in small numbers to test their conviction one last time before going all out.

Could Ludwig really afford to fight this battle? It seemed there was so much to lose and Australia – while large – had a fairly small military and it was likely that it would be split in two if Chris was to enter the battle alongside his UK brothers. As much as Ludwig wished to see Arthur and America suffering he did not want suffering for his own people or any of his allies. It was a dangerous game and he expected both Italy and Japan to sit out…he’d not ask them to fight this battle, it was not their concern.

As all of this went through Germany’s mind he became aware of the eerie fact he was not the only one still awake. What tipped him off first was not the crackle of coals in a burning fire place or even the muttering of the other awake – but instead the heat. It was almost unbearably hot as Ludwig approached the lower levels of the house. Confused and alert Germany cautiously approached the living room that had not too long ago held the misfortunate meeting with England he saw Russia was still awake, standing quietly in front of the fire place with his back to Ludwig.

He was speaking quietly to himself in Russia but as Ludwig pushed the door open he seemed to become aware that he was not alone in the room. Russia’s massive form straightened up slightly and he tipped his head back as if to acknowledge Germany’s existence.

“Ah, it’s only Germany…” He spoke with a smile but sounded disappointed. “I had hoped it would be the little one that got up first…but I suppose he is confined to bed.”

Ludwig became tense and guarded, Russia was obviously talking about Jett and he was very clearly aware of what had gone down earlier that night.

“Jett is resting.” Ludwig informed the other flatly. “As you should be.”

“Russia is not tired.” Ivan told Ludwig simply as he stared down at the fire. “I wonder why it does not work…? It’s hot in here da?”

“Ja, about that.” Ludwig began angrily, agitated by the sauna that Ivan had created in his house. “It’s too hot in here. If this heat reaches the resting rooms everyone would be uncomfortable. It’s too hot. Please put it out.”

“I can’t feel it.” Russia laughed happily. “It’s still cold for Ivan.”  
Only then did Russia turn to look at Ludwig, smiling widely as he held his hands behind his back in an innocent manner.

“Ivan doesn’t like the cold but for some reason it’s been colder than normal since today. Ivan feels it more because he was warmer than usual today.” Russia’s smile became somewhat malicious. “If the little one was awake instead it would be warmer.”

Ludwig’s eyes narrowed on the other. He did not trust Russia in the slightest but his behaviour was becoming even more unnerving. His interest in Jett seemed like a child with a new toy but Ludwig could not allow it to go any further than that.

“Today, you stopped Jett from striking his br…ahm, England?” Ludwig caught himself, refusing to call England Jett’s brother. Perhaps if he said it enough it would somehow be true.

“Hm?” Russia blinked innocently surprised. “Did Ivan make a mistake? After all little Jett would be sad if he hit his brother later down line, don’t you agree?”

Ludwig was careful not to allow himself to get caught up in Ivan’s obvious taunts. They were not friends and even as allies they were not harmonious but he had to mind himself and make sure he didn’t upset the other too much. After all it was because America upset Russia that Ivan was now here. It could very easily turn the other way.

“Truth is…Germany actually wanted Jett to get hurt didn’t he?” Russia added thoughtfully with that mockingly innocent smile. “Is why Ludwig did not stop Jett himself, da?”

Ludwig was silent, boring a hole into the other nation with his angry gaze but Ivan was not discouraged.

“Do not worry. Ivan doesn’t mind if Ludwig is cruel to little Jett, Ivan would be cruel as well. After all, Ludwig is scared of losing something of his, it is only natural that he does everything to keep what he owns.” Russia giggled quietly. “That’s why whole house had to hear Jett’s punishment earlier.” Ludwig tensed, his heart leaping into his throat. Had they been loud? Had the others heard? Seeing his distress Ivan smiled and added. “Just Ivan hearing this time.”

“You’re too invested.” Ludwig growled bitterly. “Why exactly are you-”

“Germany, Ivan will help fight little England.” He spoke over Ludwig simply, surprising the other into silence. “You were going to ask for soldiers if a fight started weren’t you? Well Ivan is offering help. Is nice da?”

“Why?” Ludwig asked sharply. “You wanted to avoid conflict, you told me as much yourself.”

Ivan smiled brightly and turned back to the fire, crouching down so that he could stare into the scorching flames closely. His violet hues reflected the flicker of the dancing flames but it seemed Russia could not feel their warmth and very casually his stuck his hand into the flame. It burnt his flesh and it must have hurt but still he felt no warmth. There was pain…but no heat.

“How cruel…” Ivan uttered to himself before withdrawing the now singed pale hand to his chest, feeling the painful throb of the burn but still his touch was like ice and the other hand acted as a cooling comfort to his scorched hand.

“Ivan.” Ludwig growled, still awaiting an answer from the other. From where Ivan crouched his eyes opened again and he glanced between his hand and the flames.

“Ivan likes warm things.” He announced finally, sounding as though he was smiling but in truth he was frowning. “Even if Ivan gets a bit burnt…he’ll try to touch warm things. So he’ll offer Germany support, to remain close to something glowing – to see a warm place where sun flowers grow.”

Ludwig’s skin crawled, he knew Ivan was mad and he didn’t want him close to Jett but…he did need those soldiers if he was to fight. Logic and personal interest warred within Ludwig but he stood to lose too much without Ivan’s help so even if the other made him uneasy and angry…Ludwig would simply need to prevail.

“Danke…” Ludwig muttered finally, giving up. He would simply be sure to make sure that Ivan’s clearly deranged self did not cause any problems. “That would be helpful…”

Ivan did not respond and at a guess Ludwig assumed he was lost staring into the fire, apparently unable to feel the heat that filled the room. Gradually Ludwig turned away from the other nation, deciding it would be best not to try and get a response from him, one never could be sure when Russia would turn on them.  
So abandoning the idea of coffee Ludwig crept out of the room and returned to his own room, he’d need to work without the caffeine to help him and that alone frustrated Germany.

When in the hallway Ludwig glanced down the hall and saw a pile of shopping bags. Remembering the errand he’d sent Jett on to try and keep him out of the house Ludwig frowned. It looked as though the small ‘mission’ had been carried out efficiently and successfully…yet Ludwig had not stopped to praise Jett at all. Feeling a tad guilty Ludwig made a note to himself to study his allies shopping work once they were all awake, he’d praise them all for their hard work properly. With that note made he set off back to his room, to work until the sun was properly up.

As Ludwig left Russia glanced out of the corner of his eye, the happy smile completely gone from his face as he stared at the space that Ludwig had once been. It was a pity he’d made a deal with the other country, a pity he’d agreed not to take any nations of his own…it would be nice to have something warm in his house. It would be nice to have anyone in his house again. Staring back at the flames Russia felt that familiar ache in his chest and realised that if he were normal he would have cried.  
It might have been nice to cry, if he could.

Jett was still asleep when Ludwig returned. Ludwig was careful not to be loud as he settled down at his desk, dragging out already finalised files and pouring over them again, looking for any error or room for improvement. He had new work as well but Ludwig couldn’t pay that any mind until he no longer had to worry about the upcoming conflict. His people would dislike it, his boss would completely disapprove but at the same time…it wasn’t as though all of his nation hated it.

Having Australia was not just appealing to Ludwig but to some of his people as well, not enough to warrant a war of any kind but they certainly were not unhappy with the arrangement. Ludwig wondered what Jett’s people thought of the whole ordeal, it was likely they hated it seeing as it was causing a divide in their nation…but Australians always were fairly resilient and laid back. Provided they did not need to fight they would most likely sit back and let what happened happen. They were a stretch from lazy but Ludwig did not understand their carefree behaviour, the mentality that everything would work out in the end. They trusted too heavily in everyone’s individual sanity and goodness. A flaw…but an admirable one in a way.

Glancing over his shoulder Ludwig wondered if any of that nature was translated within Jett. He seemed the opposite of his little brother’s happy-go-lucky nature and instead of friendliness he greeted people with harshness. He was more the embodiment of their unforgiving wildlife and landscape than the people. The thought amused Ludwig, imagining Jett as a small growling koala. It was then that Ludwig realised how drowsy his mind must have been to be thinking about such things.

Ludwig tried to focus on his work but as the night time hours began to slip away so did his body. Ludwig barely even noticed that he was falling asleep before his eyes closed and his head fell into his arms against the desk, asleep before he’d even completely collapsed. He’d exhausted himself and after having paid so much attention to Australia’s food intake and rest he’d neglected his own. It was nothing the strong Germany couldn’t handle…but his body did eventually need at least a good hour or two of sleep between days.

His sleep never brought dreams and tonight…just like any other was empty.

 

…..  
…..

_It hurt…  
It hurt a god damn fucking lot!_

Jett’s brain was telling him to get up, telling him he needed to stretch out this aching body. Gradually, unwillingly, his eyes crept open. Jett found himself staring out towards the window where the mood was beginning to dip down and draw the night to a close. Never in his life would Jett have considered getting up at this ungodly hour by choice but his body refused to let up.

 _I’m cold._  
It whined.  
_I’m stiff._  
It added.  
_I’m bruised._  
It insisted.  
_Get the fuck out of bed Jett!_  
It ordered.

“Don’t you usually stay in bed when you’re all those things…” Jett complained gruffly as he forced his aching body to get up, still holding a pillow to his chest as he sleepily sat up in bed. There was nothing brawny next to him he noticed, one of the reasons he’d woken up.

Glancing over to the empty space next to him Jett saw that Ludwig was indeed gone but he didn’t feel anything in particular when noting that. Much like the first time he’d been punished there was a haze of numbness surrounding Jett’s brain. Logic dictated he should be happy and relieved Ludwig was missing but instead Jett found himself looking around for the other in a daze.

Eventually his searching murky hues rested on the collapsed form of a once working Germany. As Jett stared at his hunched over body he noticed that he must have fallen asleep rather rapidly, he was still holding the pen that he’d been working with. Despite himself Jett gave a faint smile – though it felt a little empty on his face. It was almost cute to see the large nation passed out working, he must have been exhausted…he slept so little and Jett noticed he had not eaten in a while.

“You’re too busy worrying about my well being…” He muttered while throwing the sheets off himself, not noticing that they had not been the sheets he’d fallen asleep under.

When Jett took his first step he collapsed.   
He took the top blanket with him as it wrapped around his leg and helped to trip him up. The carpet was rough against his face and for a few miserable seconds Jett didn’t think he was getting back up. But eventually Jett was able to will his stiff joints to respond to him and was able to stumble back to his feet, again taking the sheet with him in one clenched fist.  
Each step he took was uneven and carefully planned, it was like being drunk without the joy of the actual alcohol part. If only Prussia was here, he’d have a good stiff one ready for him…damn, that sounded much better in his head without last night’s filter playing over it.

After a great deal of cringing and effort Jett made his way over to the sleeping Ludwig, dragged the blanket with him as he did. Stopping by Ludwig’s side Jett carefully took the pen out of his hand, setting it aside along with the loose papers. Once that was out of the way he tossed the blanket over Ludwig, deciding that he couldn’t wake him. Germany needed sleep so he’d let him nap for a while, no doubt Ludwig would be furious with himself later for slacking off but Jett was relieved, perhaps after some rest he’d look less tense.  
Well then again…Ludwig always looked tense.

Smiling at the thought Jett pat Germany’s head gently, taking a great deal of joy in messing up the usually perfectly neat hair as he did.  Ludwig complained in his sleep but did not wake up. Again Jett questioned himself, why was he giving this guy anything after last night? Well…perhaps it was because he was already so messed up. Oh yes, Jett was completely aware of that, at least to some extent.  
Or maybe it was because of Ludwig’s reason.

Had Ludwig punished him for breaking a vase or speaking out of turn Jett would be seething but all this seemed to come about because of England’s visit. It was as though Ludwig was desperate to keep Jett by his side and was afraid seeing England had ruined that. It was painful and to some extent Jett wasn’t feeling very forgiving about it but…at least he understood why he’d done it. It was the opposite of the reasons he’d been punished in the past, it was wrong but it came about because in some sick way he was loved. At least that was what he told himself to make the aching more bearable.

“Heh…they say true love hurts but this is a little ridicules don’t you think?” Jett teased quietly though he did not believe they were in love. That was silly…whatever this was he couldn’t call it love. But if that saying about love hurting was really true…well this could almost kill him. And one day it just might.

“At any rate…you’re a liar to.” Jett murmured with a faint smile as he pressed a kiss to Ludwig’s head. He knew about Ludwig’s lies…at least some of them. Some part of Jett knew he was foolish and confused but he couldn’t let go, he was trapped by his own unreasonable feelings. It was a cage and slowly hearts were filling it, one by one hearts were added to this cage. It had just been Jett once upon a time but now many had joined him in this cage…soon it would over flow and break free. When that happened Jett didn’t know what would happen next and it scared him.

Glancing up towards the door Jett noticed that there was some kind of…well _heat_ coming into the room. Curiosity and his desire to be warm got the better of him and with a quickly thrown on pair of pants shirt and jacket Jett began to shamble his way out of Ludwig’s room. Had he gotten a bit more time to rest there would not be as much of a problem getting down the stairs, or the embarrassing sight of Jett clinging to the walls as he went. Thankfully it seemed most of the house was still sleeping, as they should be and so Jett was not in danger of having his pride injured any further.

The further Jett travelled down stairs the more heat he felt. It was not uncomfortable but it was certainly out of place in this house that was usually so cold for Jett. He didn’t complain about the temperature before because he did not want Ludwig to worry or become cranky but this heat was a welcome relief. Should Chris or Zea live here they’d need to have a chat about the temperature no doubt. One sneeze and they were history.

Finally – after much shambling and much dishonour – Jett found the source of the heat. It was the living room and when he peeked inside the door he saw a fire was quietly crackling away, the flames having died down to glowing coals. Something large was sitting in front of the fire place, from the backlit perspective Jett could only guess it was some big beige pillow.  
Abandoning caution Jett stepped into the room, keen to be close to a fire and even more excited to be in this familiar warmth. Some might have complained the heat was too intense but for Jett it was perfectly homely and he felt a great deal of relief being in this warmth once again.

It was only when Jett finally let his sore body collapse down onto his backside by the fire place that he was able to identify the big ‘ _thing’_ in front of it. Damn near jumping out of his skin Jett leapt back from the sleeping form of Russia. He stared at the other nation in horror, wondering what had possessed him to curl into a ball and sleep on the ground like a child. Looking between the fire and Russia’s curled up body realisation dawned on Jett, Russia had said something about liking hot things…so perhaps he started the fire? No one else in Germany’s house had lit the fire before and tonight was no colder than usual so it must have belonged to Russia.

Uneasily Jett settled back down, seeing that Russia really was sleeping. When asleep he didn’t look quite so frightening, just like a big child trying to get warm by the fire. Smiling faintly Jett lent forward looking into the fire, it radiated a constant wave of gentle heat, washing over Jett’s skin like a soft blanket. The coals were beautiful to Jett though of course he knew better than to touch them, he knew he’d eventually go blind staring at them but still he looked. Sometimes Jett swore he could see things dancing in the occasional flames that mixed in with the glow of embers.

Noticing a poker resting against the fire place Jett reached over and began to shift some of the coals around, bringing them to the proper places in the fireplace. After having built so many fires and tended to them for so long Jett had no trouble making a perfect fire. After all there was nothing better than an outdoor fire, a bottle of beer and a camping chair in the outback for a lovely afternoon feed.

“Fire…wood…” Jett glanced over to his side where Russia stirred, he still seemed half asleep as he clumsily sat up, reaching for the wood piled next to the fire. It was almost like he didn’t notice Jett.

“What are you doing mate?” Jett asked curiously, seeing Russia picking up the large slabs of wood. At the sound of his voice Ivan dropped the wood he had been collecting and turned back to stare at him in surprise. Jett looked back at him with a casually questioning look, not sure what the big deal was. Eventually Russia looked at the fire nervously and said.

“If I don’t put more on it’ll go out…there’s no flames left.” Ivan explained quietly.

“Ah, is that all?” Jett laughed, finishing his adjusting of the coals though in truth he was more just playing with them at this point. “It’s fine, this’ll give us more warmth than flames anyway and it won’t need any more for quite some time.”

Russia stared at Jett and then the fire, as though struggling with the idea. Eventually he settled down and let Jett be the one to play with the fire as he seemed to enjoy himself when he did it.

“Ivan usually crushes fires…” He admitted quietly while staring into the fire. “He puts on lots of wood, trying to keep it alive and happy…but for some reason it always dies.”

“Ah, of course it would if you don’t give it a chance to breathe.” Jett laughed in a carefree manner, apparently he was feeling happy and conversational with the fire’s heat warming his body. “Anything would die if you choked it enough.”

Russia was quiet after that, memories coming to him of choking _other_ things. With knees drawn up to his chest Russia’s eyes dropped somewhat into a melancholy expression.

“Da…everything dies if strangled long enough…” Rising his gaze slightly Ivan stared at the Australian across from him, noting the rare smile on his face as he stared into the fire. On his neck Russia caught sight of finger like bruises. “…everything dies if choked long enough…” He echoed Jett’s words in a hushed voice.

“Hm? You ‘right?” Jett asked, noticing the dull tone of his voice but when he looked Ivan smiled again. “What did I tell you about that, knock it off.” He said sharply, causing Ivan’s expression to turn to one of surprise. “Well, ya heard me right? Cut that look out.”

“What should Ivan look like instead?” Ivan asked flatly, if he did not smile what was he suppose to do? What mask should he wear if not this happy one?

“I dunno, look like a normal person. You know, smile if you’re happy, cry if you’re sad. All that crap.” Jett said with an agitated scowl before turning back to the flame, unaware of the violet eyes that continued to stare at him in surprise. He wasn’t any expert on human behaviour and trying to explain it to Russia gave him a headache, he wasn’t exactly up to date with the current etiquette himself.  
Gradually those violet eyes closed but the smile did not return and instead a cold hand reached out and grabbed hold of Jett’s shoulder. With a bark of alarm Jett was pulled against Russia.

“What are you pulling?” Jett demanded angrily, feeling cold against Russia’s freezing form. He moved to yank off the hand but froze when his fingers touched something hot. It was strange to feel something warm when Ivan was involved. Confused Jett looked and saw angry red burns lingering on pale flesh.

“What the hell!” Jett cursed, grabbing Ivan’s hand a little too roughly and causing the big nation to cringe. Immediately his grip loosened but Jett did not let go as he held Russia’s burnt hand. “What did you do…?” Jett asked in disbelief, these burns looked severe and had they been on a human Jett may have called an ambo.

“Ivan put hand in fire.” Russia answered simply, still surprised by Jett’s reaction.

“You stupid little bugger!” Jett cursed angrily at Russia and was met with a soft chant of ‘Kolkolkolkol.’ Grimacing Jett decided against calling Ivan anymore names. “D-Does it hurt?” He asked shakily, trying to ignore the dark aura around the Russia.

“Hmm…not really.” _Liar_. Jett rolled his eyes and gently held Ivan’s burned hand. As a nation it would heal quickly and seeing as it was not given by another nation Jett would be hurting from that night much longer than Ivan but still he felt obligated to help.

“Cold water should do it…” Jett murmured thoughtfully.

“Oh, Russia has water!” Ivan said brightly, reaching back into a bag by the fire place. Jett recognised the sack like bag as Ivan’s. It looked fairly full…just how long did Ivan intend to stick around? With a bag that big he could easily be staying for weeks. What he produced was a far cry from water.

“That’s an ice block!” Jett barked as he stared at the brick like bar of ice Ivan held. “How did it not melt next to the fire!?”

“Hmm, I wonder.” Ivan answered with a creepy smile. Jett stared, his brain somewhat fried by this revelation.

 _H-How can he bring cold like that in a bag…what is he some sort of demon? Don’t ask…just…don’t ask. You like living Jett, don’t ask and keep living._  
Taking a deep breath Jett took the ice block and shrugged off his jacket, wrapping the block in one of the sleeves before wrapping it around Ivan’s hand. All the while Ivan just watched in an eerie fascination.

“Honestly…who sticks their hand in a fire? You fruit loop…” Jett murmured with a faint smile, knocking a single knuckle against Ivan’s forehead. “Be a little more careful next time alright?”

“Warm…” Ivan murmured quietly, face becoming obscured under his scarf but his closed eyes seemed almost peaceful.

“What was that?” Jett asked before he found himself being pulled back against Russia and Jett knew better than to try and pull back away. With an uneasy groaned Jett allowed himself to be held against the other, seeing as Ivan had stopped making that false smile and allowed Jett to tend to his hand…he could allow this much.

“It’s so warm here…” Ivan muttered again, a tad more loudly. “So…very warm.”

“Of course it is.” Jett muttered bluntly, in that usual rude tone. “This fire is great, it’s hot in here.”

Ivan smiled slightly under his scarf, of course he knew that the fire was hot but he still could not feel it. But still…he was warm now. With the hand now bandaged in the makeshift icepack Russia held the back of Jett’s head against his chest, using the other as his personal source of warmth.

“Fruit loop…” Jett muttered quietly to himself again, finding that Ivan’s cold was not uncomfortable. With all the heat in the room and his own warm body Jett was able to use Ivan as a big cool pillow. It was bloody brilliant! Like having a constantly flipped pillow on a hot summer night. It wasn’t long before Jett fell asleep, wondering why it was that he could not hear the beating of Ivan’s heart, maybe it was all these clothes…or maybe it really did fall right out of his chest one day.

It wasn’t long before both nations were asleep, taking both heat and cool from one another to have a small nap in front of the burning fire place.

“Hot….hot….hooot~!” Italy whined as he pushed open the door to the living room, finding the source for all of the heat in the house. However he stopped when seeing something strange, huddled by the fire place was a fairly strange pair. As he looked at the sleeping Jett and Russia, Italy was scared. He wasn’t sure what to do, he shouldn’t wake either of them but what if Jett needed rescuing from Ivan?

Creeping in Feli looked down at the two over the top of the lounge and noticed that neither seemed to be trapped or afraid. It actually looked a little bit fun. The sun was coming up by the window and the fire they sat in front of seemed to be dying down. It took Italy a while to decide what he wanted to do but…well…it was too early for Feli to be up and about and the only reason he was awake was this intense heat. So there was only one thing to do!  
Time for a nap with friends.

Italy crouched down next to Jett and Russia, cautious not to get too close to Russia as he gently pawed at Jett. The sleeping nations groaned softly before lifting up his arm. Jett had been a big brother after all and it wouldn’t be the first time a little nation crawled in to sleep next to him. With a happy smile Feli crawled under Jett’s arm and curled against his chest as Jett’s arm wrapped around him to hold the other protectively. Feli was out like a light and with Jett’s protection he wasn’t so afraid of big Mr Russia.

The heat eventually reached Japan as well and when he stumbled across the sleeping trio he was just as baffled as Italy had been. However he had an immediate reaction, first he took a few photos, desiring to keep this strange sight forever in physical form. After all he needed proof if anyone was to believe this set up. After that Japan noticed the fire that had heated the house was almost completely out and the sun was beginning to flood the room with light.

With a small smile Japan left the room for a few minutes and returned with a large blanket from his own bedroom that he used to cover the three napping nations. After this he quietly sat on the lounge behind the three and began to read, he had rested long enough and it would be a while before he needed to sleep again but it seemed appropriate that they all stay in this room as the morning began.

Kiku glanced down at the three and wondered when Ludwig would be up, after all he was normally up at the crack of dawn. Japan knew that he had not been sleeping so perhaps a sleep in would do the tough nation some good. For now he’d let the children sleep and just allow this homely atmosphere to linger.

Reading the mood was his speciality and this one was quite inviting, no reason to disturb it.

Soon this gentle setting would vanish, as it always seemed to and they all knew that it would be replaced with something much less comforting.  
Staring out the window Kiku frowned slightly, it was as though the world knew that soon things would no longer be peaceful and on the horizon Japan spotted dark storm clouds brewing.

With another look back at his current companions Japan sighed gently. He did not like it and he wanted to stay well out of it…but should he need to Kiku would fight to protect this. He believed they all would, even if it was selfish they wanted nothing more than a peaceful companionship. Even if that meant fighting against other friends to obtain it.

It was painful but there was no way around it.  
Nations never got that choice.

 

…  
…  
…

_Declaration of War._

Arthur stared out the window into the first rays of morning light. It was a new day and he knew exactly what this night would bring. Tonight Arthur was going to make one last stand against this whole affair. He’d strike Germany as hard as he could without forcing his troops. But the men were willing and eager, word had reached them that their Australian allies were asking for help, pleading for their brothers in arms to help them in this civil war and invasion. They were willing and Arthur was able.

Arthur’s single seeing eye narrowed slightly as he grit his teeth. His brother was damaged, he did not know how to fix him…but at the same time he knew where to start. First he had to save him, even if it was saving Jett from himself.

“Arthur?” America looked at his former brother. He noticed the set of his shoulders and the hands that he clenched into tight fists. America had not seen the other nation this furious or determined in a long time. “How…did it go?” He asked dumbly.

“Alfred!” Arthur barked, turning away from the window he stared out to face his ally. But he did not answer that question, his next move would be all the answer that they required. “You said you’d save your back up, correct?”

“Y-Yes!” Alfred responded immediately, freezing like a statue under Arthur’s harsh stare.

“And the rest of you?” Arthur inquired, looking past America at the others gathered.

Behind America Arthur’s brothers stood, the three watching the scene quietly. With Scotland France stood and by Francis’s side Mattie was peering out as well.  
From their beds Chris and Zea were watching as well with Prussia standing against the wall by their beds, all three of their cautious eyes calculating what it was England was going to do next. There was a quiet murmur of agreement with America, they’d already all agreed to aid England in rescuing the lost Australian brother. They were a family one way or another and leaving one behind was simply not an option.

Arthur paused before smiling a small, kind smile. It was brief and quickly became a confident smirk and with his hand he clenched a fist as he spoke the words he had once feared to say.

“Then as of today we are at war!”

The words were not met with horrified looks or even protest; in fact every face in the room seemed to smile. Even Mattie had his own worried little smile. This was always going to be the outcome, they all knew it and only now had they finally agreed this had been drawn on long enough.

“Germany has stolen what is ours, Australia is in turmoil and as Australia’s allies, as their friend and as their family we’ll protect them!” Arthur announced and looked to Chris who grinned brightly. The brunet had climbed from his bed and although his injuries were still present they were no longer hindering him in walking.

“It’s about time…” Chris murmured with a smile. “This time I’m going to beat some sense into that idiot.”

“Heh, you think you have a trouble bruder?” Prussia piped up from behind Chris. “As a big bruder I’ll be taking care of mein little trouble maker.” With the usual smirk red eyes peered at the other nations. “I’ll be taking responsibility for the big oaf, leave that punishment to me.”

“You’re going to fight as well Prussia?” England asked, genuinely surprised. He knew that Prussia refused to harm his brother.

“Of course, without the awesome me you’d all fall flat on your dumb faces.” He crowed prideful to the very end. “Besides, there will be other opponents besides mein bruder…don’t concern yourself – I’ll be of use.”

Just like that it was decided. No one was putting their hand up to protest or even ask permission to sit out. It was a large gathering they had, not quite the super power allies of past but hell…it wasn’t bad.

“When do we go?” Zea asked quietly.

“Tonight.” Chris answered instead of Arthur, hell bent on getting to his big brother. Everyone turned to England after that, awaiting his word. After all it would inevitably be Arthur that decided if and when they moved but he was far past the point of caution or patience.

“Tonight.” He agreed in a flat tone. “Tonight we’ll attack and tonight we’re going to win. This time we’re going to save Australia. To war.”

“To war.” Came the unanimous agreement echoing Arthur’s words.

Lose or win, tonight they went to war with Germany.

 

...  
…  
…

Affliction – End


	11. Warfare

_One Last Session._

 

Jett panted heavily, hands tightly clutching his personal weapon close. The worn cleaver shook in his trembling hands but he did not lose his grip on the machete handle. Opposite him Germany stood with a calm expression, the only indication that he was even a little bit worn was the slightly irregular breathing on his part.

It was already rolling around to midday when the German’s house hold began to come to life again. It seemed dangerous to leave preparations to such a late hour but the long rest had done them all good. However once they’d been awoken it was all business, there was no room for a casual breakfast around a dining room table or light chatter, it had been straight to work.

“Again!” Ludwig barked the order at an already exhausted Jett. Germany braced himself as the other took a clumsy lunge forward, bringing his cleaver like blade across to swipe at Ludwig. The German was ready and swiftly met the blow with a simple block of his own blade. It was not his personal weapon so even if he beat Jett to within an inch of his life there was little chance he’d kill the other nation.

With a single throw of his powerful hand Ludwig forced Jett stumbling back a few steps, pushing the other away easily. Jett was thrown back but retained his foot and against straightened up to await the next order.

“You’re too hasty. At this rate you will never be ready for battle.” Ludwig chided him harshly. “Think before you attack this time, again!”

So they continued. Jett would try again and again to land a blow of Ludwig but every time he was thrown back with ease by the other. Even with his lingering soreness and injury from the night prior Jett was still frustrated with himself. No matter how many times he was scolded or shouted at he did not whine or become discouraged, each and every time he’d get back up and attack again when ordered.

As this rough training continued their audience watched from the hillside. Japan and Italy sat quietly observing the training, Italy was relieved it wasn’t him out there getting thrown around but still felt a little bad for his new ally.

“Hm, Jett isn’t really all that strong is he…?” Italy asked with a quiet frown. “But he always looked so tough!” Italy felt safe when guarded by Jett, the other seeming to protect him without needing to be asked.

“Ah, Jett is still sore.” Japan explained. “I’m sure that he will improve as he feels better.”

“Sore from what?” Italy asked with a tilt of his head.

“Well he was buried under half the house not too long ago…” Both Italy and Japan glanced back towards Germany’s house, in particular the caved in section of it. Ludwig had spent so many hours slaving over the repair but even with all his hard work his home was no closer to having a new basement.   
Prussia had over done it…

Next to Italy and Japan, Russia was sitting silently, watching the training session with mild interest. It was strange to see the smaller nation trying so hard to force his aching body to meet Ludwig’s standards for warfare. Neither Italy nor Japan knew the extent or freshness of Jett’s pains but it was better that way. This way Russia could enjoy his own little secret as he watched the ways Jett would occasionally cringe when an obvious sore spot was hit.

“Oh….he’s down again.” Russia piped up when he saw one of Ludwig’s pars throw Jett onto the dirt. The other lost his grip on the blade he used and looked as though he’d landed on a particularly nasty bruise. Although nowhere on his back side was going to be without pain, how embarrassing.  
Feli and Kiku looked back to the training, seeing that Jett was indeed down. The Australian looked furious, absolutely seething with frustration as he glared at the ground he’d fallen on as though it had personally wronged him.

“Maybe he won’t get up this time?” Feli suggested hopefully. “This makes me feel bad for Australia…” Italy said with a sad little ‘ve’. “Isn’t Ludwig being a little bit hard on him?”

“Yes, perhaps.” Japan agreed with a thoughtful expression. “But I imagine that mister Germany is fairly worried himself. After all, if Jett’s not in fighting condition tonight who knows what might happen to him.”

There was silence after that, all three had been informed by Ludwig of what had happened – at least told the bare minimum to understand the situation. None of them were pleased and Italy and Japan were met with a somewhat troubling predicament. They did not know if they could aid Germany and Jett or not, the two had said nothing on the matter just yet, only Russia had put his hand in and frankly that wasn’t very comforting.

“This will not do.” Ludwig growled aggravated by Jett’s lack of training. “Your military is too small and weak… They’ll never be able to–”

“They’re good men!” Jett barked back, surprising everyone when he raised his voice to Germany. “They do their best.” No one was more surprised than the German in question but he was also the most composed.

“Their best is not enough. Good men do not win wars, soldiers win wars.” He growled back, sharing a glare with Jett. They seemed somewhat hostile towards one another when they were both frustrated in one way or another.

Gritting his teeth Jett threw himself to his feet, snatching up his machete as he did. He did not lash out at Ludwig even though it was clear he wanted to do just that, but instead waited for the next order, a little bit too eagerly.

“Again.” Ludwig gave Jett exactly what he wanted and this time it seemed to go like every other time he attacked. A blind attack with his machete, all rage and no thought. Again Ludwig prepared to block and push him away but as Jett neared he was thrown off by the sudden change. Instead of the downward strike that he had seemed to be making Jett ducked down low and slammed the top of his head against Ludwig’s chin.

“Eh…?” Italy’s eyes actually opened he was so surprised. In fact all three of their audience members were staring with frozen expressions. It was comical really. “Did Jett just…head-butt Germany?” Italy asked slowly.

Ludwig fell back onto the ground and Jett wobbled on his feet before falling on his backside as well, clutching his now aching head. Ludwig was rubbing his jaw as he looked at Jett who grinned back at him past the pain of his self-inflicted headache.

“Your face it too hard.” Jett complained with a small chuckle.

“Your head is just as hard, as you’d guess with your thick skull…” Ludwig murmured back. “That was underhanded.”

“All is fair on the battle field.” Jett reminded Ludwig with a cheeky grin. “If I have to head-butt someone to survive I’ll just need to deal with the headache that follows.”

Ludwig gave a heavy sigh before leaning back and resting for a moment, gaze directed at the sky. Jett’s approach to warfare was far too casual and careless, he’d spend more time joking than he would actually fighting. It troubled Ludwig to no end considering what was looming on the horizon. If Jett wasn’t prepared properly there was a good chance he’d end up dead or chained up and then Ludwig would have no leg to stand on.

“Oi…” Jett muttered, resting the back of his hand against the other’s forehead. “You’re going to get wrinkles if you keep making that sorry ass face. Calm down, we’ll be fine.” Jett encouraged him with a smile and Ludwig responded with a blank stare.

Sometimes Jett seemed a little bit _too_ crazy to Ludwig. When he’d found the small group of resting nations that morning Germany had been in a panicked frenzy, having woken up without Jett in the room Ludwig had for a moment been blinded with fear. He’d thought the other had run off in the middle of the night. He expected him to try and escape after the night before but instead when he’d run downstairs Ludwig had found himself looking in on a very strange setting.

All four of his current house guests were quietly curled up and asleep by the ashes of a dying fire place. All the panic had just bled away from Ludwig when he saw Jett lying among them. He had not tried to run away at all, simply sought out the heat he loved so much.   
At the time Ludwig’s initial reaction had been to wake them up and begin preparations for the night to come but he caught himself before he was able to disturb them. Ludwig could be kind, he knew the need for rest as well as work so he allowed the four their small cut of peace.

While they’d slept the morning hours away Ludwig had been working. Readying his men and weapons, readying all the defences he could afford. He did not intend to drag this out, one short scuffle on the battle field and this conflict would end, they could not afford the man power and expenses for an all-out war. Everyone knew this, on both sides. It was paramount that this be wrapped up in one quick sweep.

“Alright.” Jett murmured, breaking Ludwig from his thoughts as he watched the other’s tired body force itself back up. “Let’s keep going.”

“Halt.” Germany said quietly, ushering Jett back down onto the dirt with a weary expression. “Rest for a moment. We’ll try again after a break, for now just listen to strategy.”

Jett eventually followed orders and sat back down across from his German trainer. Ludwig knew the importance of training but he also knew that without the correct tactics they’d be undone even with all their efforts.

“You are not to engage with America.” Ludwig started simply. “His weapon is long range, you’ll do no good against him with your machete unless you get close enough and the likely hood of that happening without getting shot is low.”

“You intend to fight with America then? You have a long ranged weapon as well.” Jett noted and Ludwig nodded calmly.

“You and Russia will be able to fight against England and France, they both use blades so you’ll be able to get close.”

Jett shifted uncomfortably at the thought of locking blades with Arthur, in the past they’d both been left with a mark from the other. But he would be able to fight France instead, that seemed safer. He would leave Arthur to Russia…maybe. Sometimes Jett couldn’t help himself, if he saw Arthur he might not be able to help attacking him….or just maybe he’d turn tail and run at the sight of the other. Jett never could tell till he was there.

Ludwig seemed to notice Jett’s unease and frowned. Reaching over Ludwig rest his hand atop Jett’s head, patting the other in a comforting way.

“One last push.” He encouraged quietly. “This is the last one and then England won’t be around to bother you or your brothers anymore. You’ll be free of him.”

Jett’s jaw clenched but he said nothing. He gave a single nod to those words but with his gaze directed to the ground, out of Ludwig’s sight, Jett made an agonised face. If he imagined it, even for a second if he imagined England in that way he’d break. If Jett imagined Arthur was dead…he’d not be able to do it.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it Australia?” Ludwig tested tensely and got another mute nod from the other. Jett was afraid of what would happen to him if he told Ludwig of his doubts. He couldn’t go through last night again so soon.

“It’s alright.” Ludwig murmured comfortingly, not guessing Jett’s true troubles. “If you’re frightened, it’s okay.” Drawing the other closer to him Ludwig displayed one of those rare moments of publicly show affection. It was brief but it did lift Jett’s spirits slightly. Ludwig wasn’t a bad trainer, he seemed to know when someone needed a little boost but that didn’t mean he was an easy trainer. Jett was going to come away from this single session with more bruises than he had from the night before.

“Alright.” Ludwig spoke sharply, kicking back into military mode. “Up, we’ll try again.”

Jett nodded obediently and forced himself back onto two feet. While Ludwig gathered himself up the Australian took a single glance up towards the sky, a thick blanket of storm clouds was slowly rolling on over them. Frowning Jett glanced between Ludwig and the somewhat threatening clouds. Noticing his gaze Ludwig glanced upwards as well and sighed.

“We cannot always rely on good weather.” He admitted dryly. “Somehow I doubt England will be warded off by some rain.”

“Stranger things have happened.” Jett countered with a careless shrug, he would have liked it if the rain postponed all this.

“Like headache inducing falling stars…” Ludwig looked as though he was remembering something that made him feel a little bit queasy.

“What?”

“Forget about it...”

 

...  
...  
…

_One Last Game._

 

The sun was beginning to drop down by the time they finished. Drenched in sweat and wobbly on his feet Jett stood in the field, hands propped against his knees as his desperate gulping breaths stung his dry throat. They hadn’t had a break since lunch time and even then all Jett got was a glass of water and a sympathetic Italy. Worn and beaten Jett was beginning to fret.

As he stood staring at his own shadow on the dirty ground Jett watched as small drops of sweat would roll off his cheek and hair to drip onto the orange lit ground. The setting sun had caused the sky to light up in a vibrant display of yellows and reds, Italy found it beautiful but to Jett it looked like the world was bleeding. The thick blanket of clouds that had started to settle over them was only getting thicker and it beat back against the orange glow of the sky, colour slowly being blotted out by inky black clouds. No matter which way Jett looked at the sky it was grim, either it was bleeding or it was blacking out.

Closing his eyes Jett too a few more deep breaths, forcing air into his unwilling lungs as he listened to the pounding of his heart in his head. Jett’s knees continued to wobble and shake, having been pushed past their limit by Ludwig’s training but he didn’t collapse, feeling the need to appear stronger than he really was. If he didn’t shape up by the time Arthur arrived there’d be no point in pretending.

“Are you alright comrade?” Jett didn’t look up as a large pair of boots walked into his downward line of sight. With a dry laugh Jett nodded.

“Yeah, just occurred to me that I’m probably going to die tonight.” He admitted nonchalantly. He couldn’t see Russia’s expression so he didn’t notice the genuine surprise he displayed.

“Jett sounds….okay with that.” Russia said slowly, his tone impossible to place.

“Ha. Now that you mention it.” Jett’s eyes opened slightly again and he smiled faintly as he stared down at his shadow. “I suppose I don’t mind it so much. I wore out my welcome a few decades back.”

Silence followed Jett’s comment. He’d not actually meant all that much by it, just thinking out loud but Russia seemed to take it very seriously and it was only when the familiar freezing wash of air passed over Jett that he glanced up.   
Russia was staring at him with those scary wide eyes or his, smile absent from his face as the all too familiar purple glow shrouded them both. Realising he may have unintentionally ticked the large nation off Jett grinned as if trying to reassure him.

“I don’t plan on dying tonight Ivan. All I meant was…I wouldn’t mind if tonight was it. I’m just happy that I was here with some friends even if it was only for a little while.” Jett shrugged carelessly. “You win some and you lose some, at the end of the day it doesn’t matter to me all that much anymore. But you know it’s okay if you keep the cooler on.” He laughed, wiping sweat from his brow as he did. “I’m boiling here.”

“Does Germany know?” Russia asked, his expression barely softening but the aura did recede slightly though he ignored Jett’s carefree attitude. “About this way of thinking?”

Jett scoffed out a laugh and looked up at Russia with a shit eating grin. “Do you think I’d be out here right now if he did?”

Russia’s expression remained blank as his eyes drifted off to the side, considering something. It occurred to Jett that Ivan probably found him hard to manage. Due to his current state of mind Jett had a tendency to change behaviour drastically judging by situation. It was entirely possible that, as his true self, Jett would be hated by Russia.

“No. I suppose not…” Russia agreed finally and Jett’s smirk faded to a simple smile.

“Does that bother you Russia? Worried about little ol’ me?” He asked, teasing more than anything else. He was afraid of the fight to come and so he followed the oldest of Australian traditions, jokes in poor taste.  
So it bothered Jett when Russia didn’t respond, he was taking this too seriously.

With an agitated sigh Jett shoved himself to his feet and jerked his hand out towards Russia. Taken by surprise Ivan let out a confused yelp as he was suddenly pulled by the Australian. Jett didn’t say anything to Ivan as he tugged him along, it was only when he caught sight of Japan and Italy that he let out a call.

“Oi!” He shouted, one arm lifted high above his head in a casual, beckoning wave. “Over here you two! Come on, we’re going to have some fun.”

“What are you doing comrade?” Ivan asked, stumbling over his confusion. He received a backwards glance and a grin.

“Well if I might die tonight we’re going to have one hell of a last night. Let’s make an afternoon you won’t forget in a hurry.” Jett was warm again. Russia could only stare at the other as he all but glowed. The hand that held Russia’s freezing hand was all but burning with the gentle heat it radiated. With violet hues staring wide at the male that tugged him Russia hesitated before holding the hand that pulled him along.

Russia knew it just as well as anyone else. This was not warmth, the heat that radiated off of Jett was a fire and if someone got too close it would burn them. Even so, it was warm and bright. Ivan found it impossible to resist and under the material of his glove Russia could feel the burns from the night before throbbing. Yes, even if Russia got burnt by this heat he would never give up trying to obtain even an ounce of warmth.   
And so with his icy hand locked with Jett’s burning skin Ivan smiled and trailed after the other happily.

“Alright everyone!” Jett announced loudly once he’d gotten the three other nations with him. Ludwig was the only one missing but none of them dared disturb him as they all knew he was frantically preparing for that night. “We’re going to play some games, objections?”

Ivan continued smiling childishly, he was always interested in a game and Italy was no better than an excited child himself so there was no objections from those two. Kiku was a little more hesitant but looking at his three companions and their expectant faces he decided against protesting but that didn’t stop him from questioning the idea.

“What kind of games do you mean Australia?” Kiku asked inquisitively. “More hide and seek?”

“Ha! Not a chance.” Jett smirked. “We’re playing some real kids games now. If Ludwig catches us mucking around he’ll spit the dummy for sure.” After saying this Jett began to look around the ground, picking up various kinds of sticks as he did.

“So we’re playing war games.” Jett explained while picking up a sturdier looking stick and holding it out to Italy who was already shaking. “Don’t worry though, it’s just a game.” He said to calm Feli before he panicked. “Like what I played back home when I was still a little ankle biter.”

Italy finally took the stick, still hesitant but at least no longer terrified. Jett repeated this process with both Kiku and Ivan before looking to find himself a bit of wood. It took some time but thankfully the left over carcase of Ludwig’s basement had plenty of splintered goods that would do the trick.

“Not quite like the ones back home but this should make a fine shield.” Jett decided with a small nod as he pulled free a fairly thin plank of wood. It was broad and would easily shield his whole body, without being so heavy as to stop him from moving about.   
With that done he turned to the three and grinned.

“This game is really simple, but first I’m going to need a stone.” What he eventually pulled free of the rubble was about the size of his fist and sat neatly in his palm as his other arm held his make shift shield.

“Right, listen up. You three only have one job, you have to stop me.” Jett pointed to himself. “From getting this.” He gestured to the rock. “To the house.” He nodded back towards Ludwig’s place.

“You land one blow on me with your weapons and I have to drop the rock. Hence why I have this.” He lifted the shield. “Simple eh?”

“Ah! Doesn’t that sound dangerous!?” Feli cried in alarm. “I don’t want to hurt Jett…”

“Trust me, it’ll be fine. Besides usually this game is played with projectiles but I didn’t want to try getting rocks hurled at me so we’ll use sticks instead. There’s no need to worry, it’s just a game.” Jett grinned enthusiastically. He hadn’t played this game for years and had forgotten just how exciting the whole thing was.

“What happens once we win?” Russia asked pleasantly, he seemed fairly keen on this. Jett did try not to be creeped out by that.

Jett merely smirked arrogantly in response to that question. “What do you mean when you win? Ha! I’m not going to lose to you so easily.” He warned. “If you can somehow win against me we’ll talk about a prize then.”

Russia smiled all the more though Jett had a feeling he was annoyed by that comment. Russia didn’t like losing; he was just like a child after all. Jett was no different, he wasn’t going to lose this game easily and so with a confident grin stretching from ear to ear Jett threw the stone up into the air and began the game.

The flurry of movement almost took Jett off guard as the game began. The rock fell back down to land in his hand easily enough but not a moment later he had to block a savage blow to the right. Raising his shield Jett was forced back by the force of Ivan’s strike. Thankfully the stick only met with Jett’s shield and he was left unharmed and still in the game. He and Ivan paused for a moment as their respective weapons collided; Russia retained his smile though Jett was sure that he was agitated he didn’t immediately win.

Pulling a new smirk onto his face Jett pulled his shield back and with one swing of his arm used it as a club like weapon against Ivan. The Russian was surprisingly fast, considering how fast he’d gotten to Jett’s side to attack, Jett knew he’d need to be more cautious. Ivan was big but he certainly wasn’t slow. Ivan and Jett leapt away from one another and without another thought Jett took off, making a bee line for the house. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Italy still hadn’t moved. No doubt still uncertain about this game of theirs but Japan was nowhere to be seen.

For a brief second that concerned Jett and not a moment later he was proved right in his concerns. It was pure lucky that he happened to look upwards at the time when Japan jumped down towards him. Barking out a cry of surprise Jett pushed himself off to the side, rolling away from the male’s downward swing. This served to remind Jett that Japan was well known for his sword play and should not be taken lightly. Jett couldn’t help but smile when he thought about it, even though it was only a game his allies were quite powerful, perhaps he shouldn’t need to fear dying that night. It’d be nice if he could play with them again another day.

“Not bad you two.” Jett laughed, mockingly holding up the rock to the two as they watched with wary gazes, looking for an opportunity. “But you haven’t won yet.”

 

…  
…  
…

  
_One Last Word_

 

High above the clouds continued to roll in, blacking out the sky that had once been so vibrant and full of life. As the echo of distantly rumbling thunder shook the ground the air became thick with the promise of soon to fall rain. But it was not the dreary sky above that had caught the attention of the world’s occupants, instead it was those under the blanket of the murky sky that drew the most attention.

Arthur stood by the window in his room, his single seeing eye staring out at the bleak scenery that rolled in. His hand lay against the hilt of his sword, clutching the weapon that had served him for many decades with a sense of desperation. It was a good blade but he had not always wielded it well and for that Arthur knew he had failed as a swordsman, in truth this blade had been tainted by the blood of those he wished not to injure. Still he’d never part with it nor grow to hate it, the sword he held tightly that night would serve to remind him of his wrong doings and more importantly it would right them.

“How utterly miserable.” Arthur uttered distastefully, how he hated the downpour of a summer storm. Closing his eyes Arthur wished quietly to himself, hand clutching his sword tighter still. In the darkness of the slowly setting sun Arthur made a selfish wish all to himself. Wishing for the happy ending he knew was slowly slipping away with the daylight.

Quietly, all to himself Arthur wished he could re-write history itself.

Of course wishing like that was no good to a human and even less logical for a country. History was all they had sometimes when there seemed no way to move forward towards the future without trampling over other nations to do it. Sometimes just for a moment they all had the same thought, the same selfish plea as they wished for the earth to stop spinning. Time took everything from them, time took away their smiling faces and stole away those that were once loved ones. War and depression ripped through them time after time but still they stood with heads held high.

“They come first.” Arthur reminded himself quietly. In his hazy vision Arthur saw the people of his land. Young and old, to come and already gone, they were fleeting lights in the dark that kept them alive and smiling. They were short lives but when they shone, they shone most brilliantly. Arthur knew it from long ago, a promise he’d passed onto his boys, a loyal word of love and protection.  
They come first.

Even when war tore at their aging hearts or hatred blinded their true selves the countries only ever had one thing to cling to, only even had one thing they cared about and that was the people. Whether it be right or wrong, it mattered not because no matter how cruel or heinous the act may be if it was in the name of the humans it was the only way, the only thing that mattered in the whole world.  
Arthur knew it well and he believed it and that was why on that day it broke Arthur’s heart to do something some selfish. But just this once…it was for him.

Squeezing his eyes shut tightly Arthur placed his fist against the glass of the window that depicted a world outside that he’d see grow old and die long before himself. The humans would come and go and he’d love each and every one of his countries people but Arthur would not be alone. He’d do this to obtain just an ounce of happiness even if it was foolish and greedy, Arthur needed just once for something to be given back to him.   
Just this once he did not want to act as ‘England’ but instead as ‘Arthur’, he was not saving ‘Australia’ he was saving ‘Jett’.

“Oi.” Arthur lifted his head slightly hearing Scotland speaking to him gruffly from the door. “She wants to talk with ya before we go.”

Arthur nodded mutely and pushed away from the window and walked towards the door and his older brother. As he approached Scot looked at him from the corner of his eyes and uttered quietly.

“Haven’t seen that look for a while.” Reaching out Scotland roughly pat England’s back, rough enough to make his little brother stumble. “Keep it on.” With that Scot turned and walked away from Arthur calling back a quick ‘keep it quick’ before vanishing down the hall.

England stared after his brother and a small amused smile came onto his face. Straightening himself up Arthur mused to himself. “Well I’ll be, even that drunken mess can be supportive.” If he believed that was truly his big brothers intentions or not Arthur was unsure but he’d think of it like that, so he’d have the courage to speak openly to her.

What would she think of his selfish self?

Steeling himself Arthur walked in the opposite direction from his brother, towards the room he knew she would be waiting for him. Striding down the dimly lit halls of his home Arthur took no time to admire the pictures that neatly hung on the walls, elegantly surrounded by golden frames nor did he pause to admire the craftsmanship of the cleverly designed wooden doors and walls. The beauty and reserved sophistication of his home did little to calm Arthur’s beating heart. He knew at this moment he would be facing the last person he wished to displease, his most important human.

Stopping out front of the room she resided in Arthur stared blankly at the lovely wooden door with the same vacant expression he wore when looking at all of the small wonders of his home. The physical splendour of the home he slaved over was no longer of any interest to Arthur, he couldn’t admire the appeal of lifeless objects any longer. This time he needed to see something living and happy to see beauty again. Closing his eyes Arthur took a steady intake of breath before using the back of his hand to gently knock against the door, awaiting in silence until he heard that quietly spoken invitation. Almost wishing he had not been granted entrance Arthur pushed the door open and stepped inside, he was cautious not to allow himself any degree of hesitation or sloppiness as he approached the seated human that waited patiently for him by the window.

As Arthur approached where she sat he noticed that more lines had accumulated on her delicate hand that rested comfortably on the seat’s arm. He knew that when he looked on his precious human once again she would have continued to move past him, growing old and gradually fading away as all humans did and although Arthur had long since grown used to this fact it still caused a painful ach to return in his chest.

Coming to a stop behind the place she sat Arthur bowed deeply at the waist and spoke in a gentle and polite tone.

“Ma’am, you called for me?” At first Arthur received no response and assumed such silence meant his lady was agitated with him. Closing his eyes tight Arthur tried to defend his actions.

“I do not mean to upset you my lady.” He said quickly. “But as things are now I saw no other choice than to send aid to Australia. They’re still our colony; I know most believe that only to be an arrangement of convenience and not a true binding of nations, but to me…” Arthur faulted knowing what he said next held no weight as England but instead as Arthur. “…to me Australia is precious.”

Arthur kept his head low even as he heard his lady stand from her seat, the sound causing him to cringe slightly. Arthur wished to raise his head and help her, he knew how a human’s body became frail with age and his precious lady had lived for many years but still she never showed signs of weakness even when her body seemed to desire rest. Although he wished to aid her he could not raise his head until given the permission he needed.

As Arthur awaited his scolding in a state of nervousness he listened to gently padding of his lady’s gentle steps. As she neared him Arthur tensed himself unintentionally.

“Sir Kirkland…” She spoke in her sweet voice, softened with age and kindness but never failing her superior title. “Never before have you asked me for a selfish desire.”

Arthur felt guilt grow slowly inside of him, causing his chest to tighten painfully. Keeping his head bowed as he waited for the denial to come. Instead of an ear whipping or an argument however Arthur felt a gentle weight press against the top of his head as his lady tenderly pet her nation. Surprised Arthur’s eyes snapped open wide and he raised his head just slightly to look at the smiling face of his lady.

“Ma’am…?” He spoke uncertainly, he did not know what to expect in that moment.

“I have served my country for many years.” The queen said wearily with a faint smile lingering on her face. “More years than most before me. However you have served this land for longer than any of us and you will continue to serve it until the day it ceases to be.”

Arthur’s expression fell slightly as he finished the obvious conclusion to that thought. “So I should continue to serve now and discard this selfish foolishness...?”

“Not necessarily.” Chortling quietly the queen looked on her surprised nations face and smiled endearingly. “You are Arthur Kirkland, you are England and you are the people.” She reminded him soothingly.

“They come first.” Arthur echoed knowingly.

“Quite right. However, _they_ are you. All those lives that reside within you and all those people that you live for are all right here.” A gentle hand pressed against Arthur’s chest. “So you can do no selfish act. You can do no more than serve your people and should your people wish to save Australia…you will also have that wish.”

“My lady? Do you mean to say…?” Arthur’s eyes widened when he realised she was not going to deny him what he wanted. Seeing the realisation dawn in Arthur the queen chuckled whole heartedly.

“Return home safe and sound. You have already lost your sight in this bloody affair, I will lose no more of you to it.” She instructed calmly. “And bring that young man back home with you, I intend to have a stern word with the boy.” Pressing a fragile hand to her nations’ cheek the queen smiled warmly. “You’ve already done so much and asked for so little Arthur, this time we will do something for you. Sir Kirkland you have my blessing.”

Arthur was unable to supress the beaming smile that lit up his whole face. His lady had always been kind towards him and always worried about his health but this was beyond anything he could have asked for. Bowing hurriedly Arthur felt excitement growing rapidly in place of uncertainty.

“This is more than I deserve my lady. Thank you very much. I could not have asked for a lovelier queen.” Smiling warmly Arthur looked back up at his lady. “When I return with the lad, I will be sure to bring him here.”

“Off with you now. You mustn’t be late for your own war.” The queen advised firmly. “You must be sure to win and return home, I’ll be waiting for you. And Arthur, remember just who you’re doing this for.” She reminded him.

Nodding enthusiastically Arthur began to head out the door in a much less orderly fashion to how he had come in. he was jittery, nerves and all but most of all he was relieved that he had permission from his people and queen to carry this out. He had the support of the nations that had joined him and now also those closest to him and very soon he’d have his little brother back home and this time he’d most definitely show Jett he could defend him and be by his side.

“Oh and Arthur.” His queen called causing him to pause with his hand still clutching the door handle. When he glanced over his shoulder the queen smiled and added firmly. “Let’s not create a habit of this.”

“Of course your majesty.” Arthur chuckled as he closed the door behind him. Once out of the queen’s eyes were off him Arthur began to rapidly pace down the hall, no thought went into appearance or gentlemanly behaviour as he very nearly broke into a run. Arthur knew that they would be waiting for him in the lower levels, preparing their weapons.  
Arthur would polish his guns and the frog would no doubt be looking over Arthur’s sword collection. They weren’t playing around anymore, this had to be the last one. This was going to end tonight and Arthur was going to come away the victor. Even if he had to cut through Germany and Russia to do it.   
England _would_ prevail.

The queen’s words echoed in his head as he opened the door to the room where the others waited impatiently, her question buzzing about insistently bugging him to admit just who it was for. Alfred turned to look at Arthur, cradling his gun protectively as he grinned. They knew it was time to go and as Arthur took his first step into the war he remembered what he had to.

 _I’m doing this all for him._ Arthur smiled faintly as he acknowledged that. Just this once Arthur would do something selfish for someone else.

…  
…  
…

_One Last Promise_

 

Skipping violently to a halt Jett had to take off from the ground once again, no room for rest as he dodged the violent onslaught. Russia’s attacks were the ones he had to look out for most closely, while he was fast Ivan’s strength was unparallel and every time he would meet one of the Russian’s strikes with the shield Jett feared it would break in two as he was hurled back by the force.   
Japan was no easy match either, his speed and stealth made keeping him within Jett’s sights almost impossible. While Ivan caused Jett fear of grievous bodily harm, Japan made Jett worried he might be struck and not even see it coming.

“Found you!” A happy voice called from his right and again Jett was just able to stop a bone crushing blow from Russia. If the other did not announce himself so often Jett may not have been so lucky. Jett’s body was pushed back a few good paces due to the force of Ivan’s hit. Jett had learned early on he could use Ivan’s pure force to propel himself back a good distance and then escape off into the trees again. This time was no different. Skidding back Jett jammed the shield into the ground to slow himself before quickly diving off into cover once again, leave behind the sound of Ivan making a pitiful whine of disappointment when another attack failed. Though he still giggled, obviously noticing how Jett struggled to keep up this constant defence.

It was because of these two skilled players that Jett was struggling to hold his own. He reasoned that had he been in top shape this wouldn’t be hard but Jett knew that even at his peak fending off the two was no easy task. Still he could not wipe the grin from his lips as he dashed through the trees and dodged incoming blows. They’d been at this game for quite some time now and all thoughts of war and death were far from their minds as they played. All Jett could focus on was the end goal, Germany’s house. The distance between the house and himself had grown, Ivan and Kiku having successfully driven him back into the trees and should he try to make a break for the house he’d need to cover a vast area of open land. Should he end up on the open field he could very well be attacked by both at the same time and even Jett couldn’t keep them both at bay.

Knowing this Jett decided the best thing to do would be to lose them in the trees before diving into the open, hopefully giving him enough time to create the distance he needed to reach the house.  
So for the past ten minutes that was exactly what he’d been doing, it took a great deal of effort but he found that after a while of running and hiding the attack from both Ivan and Kiku died off and the sounds of following footsteps were only occasionally heard in the distance. Using this pause to catch his breath Jett smirked mirthlessly, knowing he’d lost them in the trees. He was an Aussie, if it was bushland it was his territory.

Stopping against one of the trees that he’d used as cover Jett allowed himself a few grateful gasps for air. His legs were burning and his arms ached form holding both stone and shield but the wild pounding of his head and the buzz of excitement was hard to kill. Leaning back against the rough wood of the tree Jett closed his eyes and released a blissful sigh as he thought about his next move.

“Right…” Jett breathed gleefully once he felt ready enough to move again. “Now for the house.”

Thrusting himself away from the tree Jett made a beeline through the trees towards the house and the flat stretch of land between he and it. Jett was cautious not to make too much noise as he dashed through the trees, able to put his days as a convict boy to good use as he snuck by unnoticed, no doubt this would annoy Ivan the most. He did so hate losing.

Snickering at the thought Jett continued on his path, finding the trees were thinning out and hiding became harder, he could only hope he’d lost Kiku and Ivan far enough back to not be noticed. Stopping briefly Jett ducked low by a splintering tree and scanned the trees and the flat grassy land that lay behind them. There was no sign of the Japanese man or the Russian anywhere. Satisfied Jett too another step towards the field waiting beyond the trees and then his ear picked up the sharp sound of a twig snapping under a heavy boot. Immediately Jett ran, he knew Kiku would make no sound when walking so the person who broke the twig must have been Ivan and Jett was fairly confident that with some distance and a great burst of speed he could outrun the Russian.

The second his feet took off in flight the single step that had broken a twig became pounding footsteps behind him. Daring not pause or look back Jett continued to fly out of the trees, he was almost out when the footsteps vanished from behind him followed by a loud crashing sound as though something large had hit the ground. The sudden lack of a pursuer confused Jett and without meaning to he faltered, feet stumbling to a clumsy stop as he turned sharply to the side, eyes seeking out the Russian he knew must have been just behind him only second before.

As green hues swept over the landscape he did not catch sight the usual pale figure anywhere behind him. Puzzled Jett put a hand on his hip with a frown, for a moment Jett became worried. Could Ivan have tripped somewhere back there, that would explain the sound. Uncertainly Jett decided calling would be the safest option for now.

“Ivan? You ‘right back there mate?” No answer. Jett’s worry and uncertainty grew and cautiously he took a few steps back towards the trees, back towards where he’d head footsteps.   
“Come on if you’re hurt or something you gotta say so!” Jett called, putting a bit more force into the call. He couldn’t keep playing if someone was hurt, they had very strict rules for that where he came from.  
First see if anything was seriously wrong with the injured, stop whatever game was being played and if decided they weren’t too messed up proceed with the taunting and mocking immediately. It was an unspoken code, simplified it was, check then laugh.

Deciding that checking on Ivan came first Jett wandered back towards the trees, keeping an eye out for any surprise attacks. Eventually he saw something that caused his caution to be thrown to the wind. Laying a small distance away from Jett was what looked like Ivan. He was crumpled back against a fallen tree, looking as though he had tripped over and fallen back against the rough wood.  
Immediately Jett discarded his shield – though not the rock, he still refused to release what was considered victory – as he rushed over to Ivan, calling to him as he did.

“Hey Ivan!” Jett all but shouted as he neared the unresponsive nation. “Seriously, answer me already! Are you ‘right?”

The moment Jett was within arm’s length of the other he was caught. Without a word Ivan reached out with and with an unmatched grip he pulled Jett down to his knees. Jett gave a single bark of alarm before he was pulled off balance and came crashing down to the ground by Ivan’s side. He was not given the chance to escape or even regain his sense of direction as Ivan’s other arm whipped out to wrap around his shoulders, pulling Jett down against his icy coat.  
The hand that had yanked Jett down in the first place was now used to hold the back of Jett’s head, keeping him trapped against Ivan.

Jett’s mind was still a little bit jumbled by the sudden flurry of movement in which he had no control. When he did come around to his current position however he was furious, face exploding bright red the moment he realised he’d been deceived by the other.  
“You tricked me you bastard!” Jett shouted angrily, pushing at Ivan’s chest only to find his arms were frozen bars of iron, keeping him in.

“Da, I tricked you.” Ivan chuckled gleefully, all too pleased with his handiwork. “But you left Ivan no choice!” He added in dismay. “Jett wasn’t letting Ivan catch him.”

“That’s the idea!” Jett grunted angrily while continuing to struggle about.

“Well this way Ivan wins!” Russia announced happily and Jett’s struggling stopped. “You give up now da? I get prize for winning now?” In response to that Jett’s shoulders began to shake with laughter, confusing Ivan somewhat.

“Did you forget the rules of the game?” Jett asked mockingly. “It’s not me you got to catch, it’s the rock. You got to hit me with the stick I gave you to make me drop the stone to win. You just grabbed me.”

Puffing out his cheeks childishly Ivan’s eyes narrowed in thought. He understood the importance of rules, especially in games but he had put the stick down in favour for this sneaky tactic. He would need to release Jett to grab at it.

“What if Jett drops rock or Ivan takes rock?” He asked slowly, looking for a loop hole. Jett ground his teeth angrily. In truth if Ivan could get him to drop the rock he could have it.

“I guess if I dropped it…” He admitted begrudgingly, after all Jett wasn’t one to cheat in children’s games although the loved to win very badly. Immediately Ivan’s face lit up behind his scarf.

“Then Jett will drop stone!” He announced and proceeded to try grabbing for the rock. Jett moved the rock away from Ivan, holding it far up and out of the others reach. Pouting Ivan cast an unhappy look to Jett before reaching for the rock again only to have it moved a second time. This time when Ivan looked at the Jett they were both glaring childishly at one another and thus began the game of keep away. Their hands moving fairly quickly as each tried to keep hold of the rock.

After a few more failed attempts Russia whined in annoyance. “Jett! Let go!” He demanded childishly while reaching for the stone but by this point Jett was too busy laughing at the absurdity of the whole ordeal to really notice. Ivan had released Jett in his efforts to grab hold of the rock and quickly the Aussie used this opening to leap up to his feet, holding the stone tauntingly in front of Ivan as he did.

“So that means you lost the stick, eh? Well looks like you’re out of the game.” He said haughtily, rubbing it in a bit much. “Without it you got no hope of ever winning anything!”  Jett went into full assault, taking a page from Prussia’s book as he crowed about how awesome he was at this game and in his gloating completely missed the little form walking up behind him.

“Poke.” Jett froze as a little voice whispered the word accompanied by the soft jabbing of something pointy into the small of his back.

Stopping dead mid-sentence Jett stood like a statue, rock still held high in front of Ivan and mouth still open in mid-taunt. While Jett froze in that now embarrassing position Russia’s face broke into an eerie grin and while Jett remained about as active as a statue the Russian gathered himself up to his feet.

Without a word Ivan reached out and calmly took the rock from Jett’s hand. “Looks like you’re out of game, little Australia.” He spoke pleasantly, rubbing salt into Jett’s injured pride.

Standing behind him with the stick still pressed to Jett’s back Italy smiled shakily. Jett had almost forgotten about the little Italian entirely, he’d been so focused on not being blindsided by Russia or Japan that he forgot all about the fourth player. After all Italy hadn’t attacked him at all during the long game. Only now did Feliciano pitch in and it was a single soft pock to the back that was Jett’s downfall.

“Did we win?” Feli asked excitedly as Jett’s face slowly fell into an expression of utter humiliation, head dropping low as his shoulders sagged. This depressed state alarmed Italy. “Ah! Jett what’s wrong? Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to!” He began to gush and fret over Jett all the while Russia’s smile grew.

“Da, we win.” Russia announced happily. “So we get prize!”

Italy piped up at this and began to bounce about excitedly. “What prize? What prize? Could I get pasta? Oh! Or maybe we could have lots of sleep overs again?” He began to throw out ideas faster than Jett poor humiliated mind could process.

“Prize should be…uh…” Ivan paused thoughtfully before smiling sweetly. “Become one with Russia, da?”

“Absolutely not!” Jett barked, suddenly exploding into life as he quickly denied Ivan’s idea with an X marked across his chest with his arms.

“Eh…?” Ivan complained looking innocently surprised.

“Don’t you ‘ _eh_ ’ me!” Jett continued to rage, pointing at Ivan furiously. “That’s not an option, pick a different prize or you get nothing at all!”

“Tickets.” Ivan answered immediately, taking Jett off guard. He had been prepared to argue to the very bitter end with Ivan over the prize but he seemed content to suddenly change it.

“To what…?” Jett muttered, his fire draining away as the finger he had pointed so rigidly fell slightly.

“To Australia. For Christmas.” Ivan clarified simply and Italy’s eyes lit up as well.

“That’s right, Australia promised to show us a summer Christmas at his place this year!” Italy nodded enthusiastically. “I want a ticket as well. Can we, can we?”

Jett was taken aback by their request, standing with a blank stare as they chose their prize. His mind desperately fumbled with the unfamiliar sensation this request brought. He felt warm to his very core, sure he’d talked about it a lot and wanted to but he hadn’t been so sure anyone would actually come.

“But…tonight…” He was just able to choke out as he tried to deal with the odd happiness he felt. “What if I…?”

“Then promise.” Ivan said firmly. “The tickets will mean you have to show us Christmas. Means Jett must be alive.” Jett stared at Ivan with wide eyes but the Russian gave away nothing in his gaze and a glance at Italy only showed extreme excitement and glee.

“I agree.” Jett jumped as a voice presented itself next to him. He hadn’t even noticed Japan walking up to his side, the quiet nation had disappeared for a good half of the game and Jett wondered if he had really been that lost. “Tickets for Christmas would be a good idea.”

Jett was silent for a long while before he let out a laugh, unable to suppress the happy sound. He felt warm all over and while he wasn’t quite ready to openly admit how happy he was Jett was able to express it just a little bit.  
“It’s a deal then…tickets for summer to my place.”

“There you are!” All four looked up to see Ludwig standing with arms crossed, just outside of the forest like area. “What are you all doing? Get a move on!” He ordered before noticing how dishevelled they all looked. Jett had looked like hell after training but now Russia and Japan were a little bit ruffled.  
Confused Ludwig lowered his arms and peered at them cautiously, no one seemed injured at all so he could rule out actual fighting but that didn't explain what they had been doing.

“Sorry Ludwig.” Jett turned to the other with a small smile. “We were playing…I guess we got a little bit caught up in it. Forgot about tonight…”

Ludwig’s expression softened slightly as he gestured for them all to come out. As they began to walk from the trees Ludwig noticed Russia holding a rock very protectively. He cast a questioning glance but did no more than that, it was best not to question the Russian too much. He noticed Japan holding something as well and when Kiku noticed Ludwig’s gaze on the phone he held he merely looked away. Ludwig knew what he would have done and was grateful for it though he did not know if calling China did them any actual good. He’d ask later.

When Jett was about to walk past Ludwig along with the others the German stopped him with a single outstretched hand. Feli paused as well but when given the silent order to return to the house he gave Jett one last glance before rushing off after Kiku and Ivan.

“Playing games?” Ludwig repeated quietly, questioning the whole event.

“They looked like they needed a pick me up.” Jett explained calmly. “No one is exactly cheery at the moment. Thought a little bit of smiling would do them some good.”

Ludwig frowned but he knew this was just how Jett’s country ran things. It was not strange for soldiers to do similar things before war and Australia was quite well known for their cheerful attitude in terrible situations. Ludwig had not realised this included Jett who was usually too gnarly to have any real fun but apparently even he knew the need for some light heartedness on the battle field.

“What kind of games.” Ludwig asked, using a conversational tone with Jett. They had to establish a less…unstable relationship. The night before was fresh in both their minds and while Ludwig felt the need to apologise he still did not allow himself to do so. Jett was feeling a little similar, he wanted to question Ludwig some more and possibly even admit to how shaken it made him but his pride kept him from doing it.  
So they were left to try and create a functioning relationship with small talk.

“War games.” Jett responded with a wicked grin as he explained the game and outcome to Ludwig. The German listened, though he looked troubled by some parts of the game.

“What if you’d been hurt before battle?” Ludwig scolded gently. “If Ivan had hit you…”

“It was fine. Though the cheeky little shit did trick me.” Jett cursed Ivan again, blaming him for his loss in the first place.

“Ah yes…” Ludwig murmured remembering what Jett had told him about Ivan’s little trick. It worried Ludwig more than he let on. After all Jett was too soft sometimes, if he could be fooled so easily into thinking someone had been hurt and risked losing then what would that mean on the battlefield. Anxiously Ludwig glanced over to Jett as they walked side by side and sized up his next words carefully.

“Today…when we fight.” He spoke slowly. “Do not engage England or any of your brothers.”

“But earlier you said…” Jett began to complain but Ludwig remained firm.

“You must not.  I know I told you not to attack America but I believe it would be more dangerous to attack England.”

“You’re worried I won’t be able to do it.” Jett noted flatly. Ludwig did not deny it and instead opted for silence, further pushing Jett to object.

“I’ve attacked him before, I’ve fought with him before. I’m able to do it!” He insisted. “I took his eye didn’t I? I’m not weak I can do it!”

“But do you want to?” Ludwig barked angrily. The moment the question left him he regretted it, bitting his lip in frustration as he looked away from Jett. The lie had slowly been unravelling right before their eyes. The false relationship they formed had all too suddenly become real and the small amount of suffering Ludwig had wanted to cause had changed into war. Above all else…Jett’s hatred for England was in question.

They’d been avoiding questions that might further pull apart this façade so when Ludwig spoke those words they were both thrown into a place they did not want to be. Jett did not know what his answer was and Ludwig was afraid to hear it, afraid to let Jett really think about it.  
For a few very quiet and uncomfortable seconds nothing was said. Shuffling his weight from foot to foot Jett answered, slowly in a gruff tone.

“Look…on the battlefield I don’t think that there will be a great amount of control or order. We fight who we fight…I don’t know what will happen but I won’t let you down.” Reaching out Jett pat Germany’s back with a confident grin. “You kept your promise to me at England’s place when you came and saved me so I’ll keep my promise to you. I’ll do well.”

“Very well.” Ludwig was not reassured but he smiled slightly all the same, more to reassure the Australian than himself. As they walked back to the house together Ludwig’s smiled fell slightly and he grabbed hold of Jett’s hand tightly. The hold caused the Aussie to jerk to a stop and look back at his German partner with a puzzled expression. The firm grip tightened slightly and gradually pulled Jett back to Ludwig, pulling him into an awkward hug. Ludwig’s face was on fire and his stiff natured mind was struggling to process the embrace he had started.  
Still holding Ludwig’s hand Jett’s wide eyes drifted shut and his free hand wrapped around Ludwig’s back, gently resting a hand on his head. Ludwig squeezed Jett’s hand slightly as he whispered.

“Stay alive.” He murmured softly. “Do that and I will never be let down. Promise me.”

“What..?” Jett repeated blankly.

“I said promise me. That you’ll stay alive, promise.” Ludwig had been listening, of course he had been quietly spying on the conversation that went down between Italy, Russia and Australia. Ludwig also wanted a promise from Jett…just a little reassurance he would be safe. He did not want to think about the idea of Australia dying that night. He did not want to have the Australian’s death on his hands also. Ludwig almost asked for a ticket as well, the request was on the tip of his tongue but he buried it quickly – Ludwig was sure he’d be refused should he ask.

“I promise.” Jett agreed, his usually rough voice tender when he uttered the words and Ludwig was barely able to disguise his relieved smile.

With eyes shut Ludwig let out a small breath of relief and he knew exactly what his overarching reason for all this was.  
_This all for me_. Jett’s promise was also for Ludwig, so that he would not be afraid that day when they fought.

Clearing his throat Ludwig stepped away from Jett, falling back into his usual tough guy behaviour though his hand remained gently linked with Jett’s, somewhat devaluing the look.   
“Come, we’re almost out of time and you’re a mess.” Ludwig murmured disapprovingly.

“I didn’t realise that appearance was important on the battlefield.” Jett scoffed.

“Well according to mein big bruder, appearance in battle in paramount.” Ludwig murmured back with a twitch of a smile on his face. It never occurred to Germany that Prussia might just fight alongside England that night.

“Germany.” Both Ludwig and Jett looked up in surprise when they heard the Japanese male speak to them, using a very formal tone. “Italy and I have something we wish to speak with you about.”

Immediately Ludwig’s form tensed, becoming formal and stiff as he realised this was no casual, friendly discussion. By the look of it the two had finally made their choice on where they would stand in this fight. With a single firm nod Ludwig allowed Kiku to lead them back into his own home and to the meeting room where an anxious Feliciano was waiting.  
Seeing the three come in he immediately perked up from his position on the lounge, bouncing slightly as he sat though it was clear he was still just a little bit uneasy.

Ludwig and Kiku shared a serious expression and Jett was busily trying to wrap his brain around the situation as he lingered behind Ludwig curiously.

“Sit, sit!” Feli encouraged, gesturing to the seats that lay around the small coffee table.  Jett took the offer and sat down on the lounge opposite Feli while Kiku and Ludwig split and took their own seats, Kiku next to Feli and Ludwig by Jett. Again Jett looked between the three faces, wondering why they seemed to be having a stare off, Ludwig looked concerned as his bros knitted together tightly. Clearing his throat calmly Japan prepared to speak, they had called the small meeting so it was only right they were the ones who spoke first.

“Mr Germany, Italy and I have been considering your predicament with England and the others.” He began calmly. “We’ve spoken about it for a good half of the day.” How Feli stayed interested that long was beyond anyone. “The risks involved and the poor rewards are not in our favour…” Kiku began to list the problems but Ludwig was quick to jump in though he also kept it polite and evenly spoken.

“Ja, I understand completely. There is no need for either of you to feel at all apologetic for your decision, I knew it would be as such anyway.”

“Ah…Well Germany we were going to offer our aid.” Kiku spoke, surprised Ludwig had jumped to that conclusion but Germany did not seem to hear him at all.

“It’s quite alright Japan, there’s no need for either of you to apolog- Wait, what…?” Ludwig stopped looking up at the two nations in surprise as the words registered finally. Both were smiling, amused by how firmly Ludwig had his mind set on being denied help. Now at a loss for words Ludwig could only stare at the two.

“I talked with my brother Romano. Turns out big brother France tried to get Spain to help them but Romano sorted it all out for me! Ve~ Kiku talked lots to China as well.” Italy explained excited. At this Jett lifted his head slightly in surprise, looking at the passive faced man opposite him. It linked up in his mind quite quickly, Japan had vanished on two occasions he could think of and he knew for a fact one of those times had been to call someone. So he’d been conversing with his brother for some time now. Jett did not know where China stood in this ordeal though so he couldn’t be sure if that was a bad thing or not.

“Hai.” Japan confirmed simply. “After some discussion…we came to an agreement. China does not wish to be involved in this especially seeing as I intend to lend you aid Germany.”

Jett began to smile, thinking this was all very wonderful. They had help from both their friends now, Jett turned to look at Ludwig, expecting a similar expression but instead Ludwig only looked troubled.

“You should not.” He said with a small sigh. “I’m sure you understand the situation Japan…”

“Hai. I do, we both do.” He gestured to Italy who just waved excitedly and Jett wondered if he really did understand. “It troubles us to be involved in conflict, especially a conflict with new friends. However…if this is what Ludwig and Jett desire then we will do all we can to help obtain it.”

Ludwig frowned, trying to be reasonable. He knew it was dangerous and to some extent he had wanted his two allies to remain uninvolved for the sake of their safety. Clearing his throat Ludwig prepared to thank them and suggest that maybe they try to keep themselves safe first but he never got the chance as the boy by his side shoot upright.

“You can’t!” Jett spoke suddenly, standing up with hands pressed flat against the table top as he looked at the two with panicked eyes.

All three pairs of eyes were on the frantic boy. He had seemed pleased a moment before but hearing their reason for giving their aid Jett became worried and guilty. He could not ask those two to put themselves in harm’s way for his own desires. Clenching his hands into tightly balled fists Jett lowered his head and began to speak quickly in a breathless string of desperate words.

“Japan, Italy, I’m grateful for your concern but please do not push yourselves! You said it yourself, you don’t want to fight with people you consider friends. Kiku, aren’t America and England your precious friends?” Kiku winced at his words. “Don’t take up arms against them for a selfish desire of mine!”

He implored the two to re-think their answer. He knew he was effectively making the battle to come more difficult but he couldn’t…he just would not let someone else hurt a friend for him. Hadn’t there been enough of that already? Jett wanted all that to end tonight, he wanted people to smile normally again and be with their friends – what he did not want was more suffering to occur.

“If you understand what I’m saying please withdraw your offer.” Jett pleaded with the two. “There is no reason for you to-”

“Jett is wrong.” As the Italian’s voice sounded out Jett recoiled, silenced by the strangely firm tone of those words. Looking up from his clenched fists Jett saw Feliciano looking at him with a pair of amber hues – his eyes were open and everyone was silent.

“We would do it for you, because you’re our precious friend also. Ludwig and Jett need help and we will do anything to help our friends. After all I believe you would do the same for me, for either of us and so we will do this for you.” Italy smiled faintly as he spoke, his melancholy expression hitting Jett deeply.

“I’ve lost friends in the past to war, I’ve lost family to it also but at those times I was too small and too afraid to even lift a finger to save them. I refuse to allow that to happen again. Ludwig became my cornerstone long ago, he’s been with me to tie my shoes for all this time…what kind of best friend would I be if I did not help him now when he feared losing something precious? There is no better reason than that.”

“Feli…” Ludwig murmured the others name, looking flustered by the Italian’s determination to help him. Italy only smiled brightly in response.

“Ludwig would do the same for me!” Italy chirped happily. “He always came when I called after all.”

“Just as he would for me.” Kiku agreed solemnly. “I believe Jett is the same.”

Jett stared at the two before a shaky smile came onto his face and his head turned downwards towards his once again unclenched hands. Ludwig glanced over to the other, noting the smile he wore and the tears he tried not to shed. It was not often Jett cried in front of Ludwig out of happiness, it was genuinely surprising to the German and it made his chest pinch painfully.

“You two…you’re making me look like a bloody ankle biter, knock it off…” Jett spoke pathetically as he rubbed at his eyes in a desperate attempt to hide his embarrassing tears. With enemies knocking at their door Jett had not expected friends to appear so willingly and to offer help in such a selfless manner. He was use to being on his own in battle, he did not realise he could be given help like this.

“I promise… I promise I’ll help you when you need it.” Jett said firmly, finally looking up with a smile and slightly wet eyes. “For you, I’ll fight any battle. I promise.”

Japan and Italy smiled in response and finally the four were in agreement.

As they began to smile and laugh together none of them noticed the quiet nation that stood out the door, clutching the faucet tightly in his gloved hands.  
Ivan listened as the agreement was made and again wondered what it would be like if someone would do the same thing for him.

Closing his bright eyes Ivan resisted the urge to breath out a small gloomy sigh. Russia had gotten use to being alone a long time ago and even the promise earlier that evening had done little to reassure Ivan that he would truly be able to visit Australia.  
He’d never visit Australia if they lost this fight tonight.

Violet hues snapping back open and Ivan’s hold on the pipe became painfully tight as he stared blankly into the space ahead of him. He knew what had to be done, they could not lose at any cost that night and he would force Jett to keep his promise if he must.   
First of all, Ivan decided excitedly, Australia had to die.

Should America or any of the others die as well it was of no consequence to Ivan but first and foremost was Australia.  
The boy Christian would be Ivan’s target, removing any chance that Jett should change or his mind or that Chris would somehow be able to ruin his chance to visit.   
Secondly England had to die, that went without saying however and Ivan knew he would not need to focus on Arthur. He just had to kill the little Australian.

Jett might be upset…Ivan understood that but it couldn’t be helped, people died on the battle field all the time. A small but understandable accident. Jett would understand if he found out but he did not need to know it was Ivan that killed his brother, it would just be one of the many losses of the enemies side that night.

Just one more small accident.  
Ivan couldn’t help but giggle.

 

….  
….  
….

 

_One Last Chance._

 

 

This wasn’t right…

Jett stood alongside Ludwig and the others that had joined them on the battle field. The sky had long since gone dark, the clouds blocking out any chance of light making it through and soft pitter-patter of rain drops had begun to fall to the ground.

It had been a long time since this many countries of this standing had come to the battle field to fight. However it wasn’t seeing most of the super powers in one place or the fact that Jett knew he’d be fighting against them that worried the Australian it was the sight of three faces he’d not expected.  
It made sense to Jett now he thought about it, of course they’d come out to fight, of course they would…if they hadn’t Jett wouldn’t be in enough pain and the world couldn’t have that.  
Standing on the opposite side were his brothers.

Zea and Chris wore similar expressions to his own, a look of utter despair and desperation. Jett understood they wanted this to end, he really did understand but he also knew backing down was no longer an option. To add to the mounting tension it wasn’t only those two that were unexpected faces.  
Glaring at his little brother from by Chris’s side was Gilbert, arms on his hips with a scolding look plastered on his face. The Prussian and Australian stood mirroring their brothers who stood together on the other end of the fighting ground, wearing very different expressions.

By Jett’s side Ludwig shifted just slightly, hand reaching for Jett’s to clutch tightly as if seeking out support – Jett knew he had not expected to see Gilbert out there to fight him. Although his gloved hand tightly clung to Jett’s Ludwig’s face remained passive, not allowing himself any room for weakness or open distress. This was the battle field there was no time for such weak emotions and so Jett followed suit. His eyes trained not on his brothers but instead on the reason they all stood out there that dreary night.

Standing with America at the head of the group on the opposite England stood with his head held high and blade in hand. America was holding a gun by his side and Jett knew if he was hit by that gun’s bullets there would be no stitching up that would save him – that was _America’s_ personal gun.

“Leave the little American to Ivan.” Russia said happily, noticing Jett’s stare. Immediately Jett looked back at Ivan in surprise.

“Ivan you can’t.” He hissed back under his breath. “You’re using a close range weapon.”

“Oh, don’t be worrying!” Ivan replied cheerfully. “Little Alfred and I have played before, da? Will be no different.” Jett bit down his response, it was true that Ivan and Alfred had fought very long and bloody battles. If anything one could call Ivan experienced when it came to America so Jett did not try to argue with him after that and instead turned his attention to Ludwig.

“How…does this work?” He asked finally with a glance at the opposite side.

“We wait, for England to make a move.” Ludwig answered stiffly and not a moment later Arthur did just that.

Taking a confident step forward Arthur broke away from his group and Alfred in favour of taking the first step and presenting himself as the leader. Ludwig tensed but ordered no attack.

“Germany!” Arthur called across the wide space between them. “This is our last offer. I do suggest you consider backing down, there will be more loss than gain from this campaign. Surrender the island nation Australia and we will back down with no casualties.”

Arthur’s gaze flicked over towards Japan and Italy but the two said nothing at all. China seemed to be the only major nation of the Allies to be missing from this scene. According to what Japan had to say about their conversations China had agreed to stay well and truly out of it and he had kept his word on that much. However that did little to set Jett at ease when he saw the others that stood with England.  
It was as though almost all his family was there. Not just Chris and Zea but also their elder and somewhat elusive UK brothers. Jett felt uneasy but he tried to keep that buried.

Jett made no move to protest or speak, instead allowing Ludwig to speak. He knew that if for a second he opened his mouth everyone would hear the uncertain words that would fall clumsily from his lips and he’d be caught out by England. He couldn’t let his brother know of this weakness, Jett had to be cold and unseeing or he’d not be able to strike down the elder brother. Thankfully Ludwig employed the usual sturdy tone of voice he was always able to capture seamlessly.

“We refuse.” Ludwig called back calmly but that was all he said. Jett noticed he had to bite his tongue, most likely keeping down something he wished to say to his brother. Gilbert was not so reserved however and with a step forward he shouted across the gap at Germany.

“What the hell West? Give it up already, just let go of it. The war was years ago, it’s time to move on! Hey, are you listening to me you-!” Ludwig lost his temper and angrily cut across his brother.

“This is no longer about the damned war!” He snapped angrily, hand still tightly clutching Jett’s. “This is no more than a fight to keep what I want by my side.” Ludwig finished more calmly. “I will fight a war for that and so we will not back down England.”

“If that is your choice…” Arthur spoke darkly, his voice only just carrying across the distance. No one made a move for their weapon however and Jett was about to open his mouth to speak when…

“Jett! Look out, get back!” The shout came from behind Jett, a warning shouted just a bit too late. Jett jumped in alarm and was jerked back at the same time by Ludwig, just narrowly avoiding a stick like weapon that flew past his head. With eyes wide Jett stared into the space he had thought to be empty and realised he’d missed the person that had come to stand right in front of them.

With hockey stick still in a downward strike Jett saw Canada staring at them from behind his glasses, a frustrated expression on his face.  It had been a sneak attack, of course no one could see Mattie until he was bearing down on them and it had very nearly cost Jett his consciousness.  
That was it. The first move had been made and now it was all fair game.

There was a flurry of movement after that moment. Still reeling to catch up Jett could only follow the flow as Mattie uncurled himself from the attack and moved to size up another swing, this time however the blow was met with the sound of metal and wood clashing together violently and both pairs of purplish hues met, one in a glare and the other filled with childish delight.

Distantly Jett hearing Russia saying something to Matthew, it was spoken in a friendly tone but Jett feared for Mattie’s safety. Knowing that he did not have the time to fret over them, Jett’s gaze quickly turned to the increasingly chaotic stretch ahead of him. Flanking his sides as Jett stepped into a run was both Italy and Japan, the two had agreed to take easier targets and preferably not close friends so instead of intercepting America or England they broke off and dove into the three British brother’s side and France. The second the two left his side Jett focused on his primary target, he knew that it was dangerous to approach the other but in the mad frenzy there was little he could do.

He ran straight at England.

Arthur saw his little brother coming before he’d even made it within five meters and so when Jett was within swinging distance of his cleaver England was completely prepared and not at all taken aback by his brother’s choice. Tensing his shoulders Arthur met Jett’s initial attack with his blade but there was no time for either brother to exchange words as another attack came just as quickly.  
Within seconds the two were exchanging blows faster than an outside eye could process, each taking their turn to try landing a solid hit on the other.

With every strike one would take ground and another would lose it. Very quickly the hectic flurry of movement slowed – Jett was losing ground fast.  
His elder brother was very rapidly gaining the upper hand, landing solid blows in places that were still somewhat sore from the Australian’s recent wounds and then the real attacks began, the ones that came in the form for words.

“Jett.” Arthur growled as the swipe of his blade sent Jett stumbling back a few feet. “I do not want to fight you.” He insisted while following up the strike with another sharply executed downward strike, Jett was only just able to hold it off with his machete but this time England did not try for another hit and instead began to push down on Jett who could only slide back a few more steps.

“Think about this.” He spoke as firmly as he could manage. “Think about your brothers Jett. Didn’t you always say they came first?”

Jett’s guard was dropped, just for a second his raised his head meeting Arthur’s pleading one eyed gaze with his own childishly shocked expression. That hesitation was enough. Without further warning Arthur pulled back the blade and with a single swift slash he knocked Jett’s machete from his hand, causing the Australian to fall back a few steps away from his brother who drew closer to him – sword still in hand.

“Jett!” His name was shouted by a familiar voice and as he turned to look the sound of a gun being fired echoed in his head. Standing with America struggling under his grip was Ludwig, his arm outstretched and holding the gun that had been fired at Arthur.   
England had heard the shout as well and with that small warning he was able to move out of the way, only just. Arthur cried out in a hiss of pain as a bullet tore through his shoulder, skimming along his flesh and splitting it open as it narrowly missed a vital point.

Blood was spilled from Arthur’s shoulder and his free hand clutched the wound while scowling at Ludwig. The distraction of protecting Jett had caused Germany’s hold on America to lessen and as such he was painfully elbowed in the face, effectively ridding Alfred of Ludwig’s hold. With his own set of problems once again, Jett knew Ludwig couldn’t save him a second time. Snatching up his machete Jett got back to his feet and turned on England again.

“Think about this lad!” Arthur hissed again but this time he got no response from Jett who worked on blocking him out entirely. England was still able to fight and so they continued, the sounds of war raging around the two former brothers as they locked blades again. In the past the clashing of their blades had only caused suffering…this time would be no different.

And yet they fought on still as though it may somehow bring them salvation.

 

…  
...  
...

 

On the other end of the battle field things were taking a turn for the worst. Chris and Zea were trying to find their brothers in the chaos but over the sounds of ragging gun fire and shouting it was hard to see anything clearly. Gilbert was with them, attempting to do just the same. He was sure that he had spotted Ludwig fighting with Alfred but it had been brief and he couldn’t seem to catch a second glimpse of the two.

“Damn it…” Gil cursed angrily, not daring to leave the two Down Under nations unguarded however. Both Chris and Zea were in bad shape but they needed to be here and they were at least able to walk, though Zea needed help from his brother every now and then with his bad leg.

“Can’t spot them?” Chris asked, guessing Gilbert’s luck was about the same as theirs had been so far.

“I can’t see anything.” Prussia growled back in frustration. “I can’t spot anybody at all!” Just as the irritation was reaching a tipping point for Gilbert he did finally spot someone, just the last person in the world he wanted to see. In a split second he changed from looking to retreating, backing up and pushing both Chris and Zea long with him, guarding them from the danger he had seen and they were yet to take notice of.

“Oi, mate what’s up?” Chris asked, alarmed by the sudden pushing. Gilbert didn’t answer them and when Chris stole a glance at the pale man’s face he saw a distinct look of terror and at first he didn’t understand. Until he heard that voice…

“Privet Prussia!” It was a cheerfully sung greeting but it caused all three nations to freeze and Gilbert’s breathing became erratic as his heart began to painfully pound against his rib cage.

“Piss off bastard…” Prussia tried to growl, arms protecting the two younger nations as best they could from the large icy country.

“After such a long time I thought you’d greet me more cutely…” Ivan complained with a pout before casting aside the false disappoint in favour of a large smile. “Ah, never be minding! Ivan can catch up with Gilly later, after he’s done here. I’m sure your brother would disapprove though…well we just won’t tell him will we?”

Gilbert shuddered, trying to keep a distance between them and Russia but Ivan moved surprisingly quickly and Gilbert did not miss the appearance of a familiar faucet in the Russian’s large hands.

“Look Russia, just keep the hell away from us.” Gilbert growled. “We’re not here to fight, we’re here to talk some sense into our brothers. So g-get the hell back!”   
Chris glanced at Prussia in surprise when he heard his usually arrogant voice crack. He didn’t realise just how terrified Gilbert was until that moment and now he knew…well he was terrified as well and as a result began to guard his little brother as well, shielding the smallest country from Russia.

“Ivan isn’t here to fight with Gilbert.” Russia exclaimed, looking hurt by the comment even as he descended on the trio with an eerie grin plastered on his face. “Ivan is just going to remove a problem, that little Australian problem behind you. That’s all. So Gilly will move now, da?”

With that said Ivan began to raise his pipe and with his eyes open in maniacally glee he added offhandedly. “Of course if Gil doesn’t move Ivan will have to remove him as well.”

“Kid, run!” Gilbert shouted in panic. He couldn’t match up against Ivan, he’d been taught that very well in his time separated from West and it only took until all his bones had been broken and reset for him to realise it. Gilbert did draw his blade to try and meet Russia’s attack but he knew better than to believe he could hold him back for any considerable amount of time.

Toby latched onto Chris’s arm, trying to draw him away from Ivan and Gilbert but neither was willing to escape and even if they tried they’d not get far with their injured bodies. Ivan knew this to and with a single innocent giggle he swung the pipe down.

“ _Just one last fun game,_ _da_?”

 

...  
…  
…

Warfare – End


	12. Independence

_Childish Egotism_

 

"When you're old enough," Jett would tell his younger brother again in a soothing tone as they wasted away their days in the summer haze that enveloped their island home. "I'm going to leave Australia to you. Make sure you look after it, I'm sure you'll do fine."

Back in those days there was nothing that bothered Christian at all. With an innocent smile he was allowed to play any game that took his fancy and spend hours mindlessly wasting time in the vast island nation they called home. At least that was how it would appear to anybody else, but Chris did have one troubling thought in his head. Even in the haze of his summertime childhood memories, Chris always had a sense of time moving by too quickly and although it scared him he was always too afraid to tell his big brother anything.

"But won't you be here with me?" Chris asked back, confused by his brother's constant reminder. "If you're here we'll share Australia, right? So I don't need to worry about it."

He often became quiet after that question and Chris would continue to stare at his brother, wondering why it was his eyes looked so sad. But then Jett would look over at his little brother with a bright, comforting smile as he lied through his teeth.

"Yeah, of course. I'll be right here with you." Sometimes Chris realised his brother was lying but he was a frightened child, so instead of speaking the words he wanted to say Chris would just smile back at Jett as they both told lies to comfort the other.

Chris spent his time hunting bugs and prying them from the dirty cracks in the walls and playing with the hose on the days when the tar in the road would become liquid again in other words, he lived ignorantly and worked hard to bury his uncertainty deep down so that he'd never need to think about it. Living in their little shack just the two of them Jett was everything and together they spent their days lazily letting sunlight drift by. It was the warm weather that caused them to be so laid back, and even Jett with all his troubles, was able to feel at ease as the summer wind lofted lazily against his skin.  
Jett would tell Chris stories of heroes he once knew and people that had long since passed away, filling Chris' head with thoughts of happiness - the things people could be - and sparking that desire in the young country to be a kind person. He wanted to be the sort of person that his brother spoke highly of like the humans he told tales about.

"One day I'll be a hero, too." Chris declared firmly and Jett would laugh, petting his little brother's head gently. "I'm sure I'll make lots of friends that way."

"You're a good boy, Christian." Jett praised him often when he said those things, he always sounded so relieved when Chris said something kind-hearted. "I'm glad you're growing up better than I did."

"Did you grow up bad?" Chris asked naively, again seeing that hazy look to his brother's face. "But big brother isn't bad at all." He insisted, wishing away that painful expression on Jett's face.

"That's nice of ya." Jett murmured gently, ruffling Chris's hair but it didn't erase that sadness in his eyes.

Chris always knew deep down he could never know how his big brother felt inside. Chris could only stand back in the scorching sun of the carefree Australia he was born into and watch his brother linger in the past he did not remember. Even as Christian watched his brother quietly suffering he realised at a young age that he couldn't tell a single soul how he really felt himself.  
He'd often wondered what would happen if he told Jett what was really on his mind. What Jett would say if he knew how cowardly Christian truly was. If he knew he wasn't the brave hero type he aspired to be?

Afraid of the future and unwilling to remember the past, Chris remained stationary and he'd tell himself that he was just moving forward at his own pace but he knew it was nothing but selfishness. Because he was unable to remember what hurt Jett he let his brother bear the burden alone, and because he feared losing his big brother's warmth he continually allowed him to act as the protector even when he was strong enough on his own. His brother fought wars to defend him and Chris sat back quietly, pretending to be blind to the pain his brother felt.

The years that he spent smiling innocently on the surface, Chris was quietly cursing himself to hell over and over again behind those cheerful eyes, wishing for just an ounce of strength to save his big brother with. Still, he was afraid that Jett's hand would leave his own and so he desperately clung onto his brother's warmth so he'd not lose it like in his nightmares. The knowledge of how awful he truly was broke Chris deep inside but still his fear stopped him from saving his brother.

"Jett…? " Chris asked one day after he'd grown a little bit older. He knew soon he'd be taking over Australia from his brother and he felt dread welling up inside of him. Would his brother leave if that happened?  
If that was the case then Chris did not want Australia. The sickly feeling that spread through him like a poison through his veins was a cruel reminder that he could not reject his country or the people, the selfish thought physically causing a young Christian to feel ill.

"What is it, mate? Make it snappy, I gotta be down at parliament in ten." Jett turned back to face his teenaged brother who stood in the hallway looking at him with a sorry expression.

"I…" _I could go this time, so please rest._  
The words were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't speak them. If he did he might become Australia faster and he refused to lose Jett, even if it saved him from suffering and so again he averted his guilty gaze.  
"Have a good day " Chris muttered quietly instead.

Jett paused at the door, inspecting that strange expression on Chris's face. His brother seemed a little down and so with a sigh Jett shut the door and wandered back over to Chris with one hand scratching at the back of his head. There was no helping it, if Christian made that face Jett couldn't leave him all alone.  
"Well, how about this time you and I go to the beach?" He offered with a nonchalant shrug. "Parliament is boring anyway."

Chris stared at his brother who grinned back at him and somewhere in his chest a tight feeling arose. He felt like crying when he saw just how far his brother would go to see him happy. Chris wanted to ask why. Why did Jett put him above all else and yet look like he was in agony every time he looked at his little brother?  
Chris was still too much of a coward to speak the words so he just smiled back, agreeing to go and play which again caused his brother to suffer for his childish fears.

That day when they got home from the beach, dried salt on their tanned skin and sand in their hair the, two brothers were met with an unwelcome message on the answering machine. Jett had expected as much but his expression still fell when he saw it, their little beach trip would not go without consequence and it was best Christian was not around to hear it.

"Hey, Chris?" Jett called after listening to the message. His voice quaking just slightly though he tried to keep it casual. "Head upstairs and have a shower, alright?"

Chris glanced towards his big brother who, with his back partially to Chris, clutched the phone with a grim expression. Chris noticed how his brother trembled slightly and decided to stick around.

"Sure, I'll leave enough hot water for you." Chris called back before rushing upstairs and starting the shower, listening to the rusted pipes struggling to force the slightly discoloured water through the house. The terrible creaking and noise of water pouring down against the shower's cracked tiles was enough to disguise the sound of Chris's tip-toeing steps back downstairs.  
Sitting quietly on the two top steps Chris peered into the living room where his brother stood back now fully to him on the phone, speaking in a special tone that Chris instantly recognised.

"Look, I just wasn't there this time." He growled into the phone with a hint of hesitation, as though afraid to sound truly angry with the other person. "I…I was at the beach " He muttered in a defeated voice.

Chris watched curiously and wondered who he was talking to. Jett never seemed worried when talking to their boss but at that moment he looked worn and nervous. Christian was sure it was 'that man' on the other end. Jett only acted this way when that man came to visit or called.

"England, please. Christian wanted-" He was cut off and Chris noticed how his body visibly sagged. "I understand. It won't happen again." There was a quiet click as he hung up followed by an eerie silence before the abrupt sound of the phone clattering to the ground loudly as it just slipped from Jett's fingers. Chris jumped back as the noise broke him out of his trance, but the jump caused the stairs to creak and Jett turned to catch sight of his spying little brother.

"Little rat bag…" Jett muttered wearily before pointing to the spot in front of him without a word. Chris dragged himself up, knowing exactly what that silent order demanded he do and marched himself down the stairs, coming to stand in the place that Jett was pointing at. Often when Jett was angry with Chris he'd do this, point at a spot and wait for Chris to walk over with agonisingly small steps, tail between his legs as he thought of the punishment that usually came. It was torturous, often worse than the actual punishment but he knew running would only get him grounded on top of a smack.

But instead of the usual 'hand out' order Jett gave to deliver a quick smack to his misbehaving brother, Jett simply spoke since apparently his spying did not warrant a quick thwacking. Just a stern word.  
"Really now, mate? Haven't I taught you better than that?" Jett began to scold him. "When you're spying you got to keep yourself in a better position and stay composed. What if you were spying on some bigger kids or something? You could have-"

"Who is he?" Chris asked before he could bite down the words. Jett stopped speaking, only just getting started with his usual 'spying skills' talk. Realising he couldn't retract the question or pass it off as something else, Chris continued to speak. "The man you talk with sometimes, the man you call England?"

Jett looked at Chris with uneasy eyes before glancing off to the side, as if thinking over his answer cautiously. Chris knew that Jett did not want to give the truth but Jett was not fond of lying to his little brother either and so he had no choice but to explain himself truthfully.

"That man is the personification of England. Our motherland," Jett explained, sounding exhausted as he spoke. "He's our big brother." He had to spit the words out, they were so difficult to say.

"Why do you hate speaking to him?" Chris asked curiously.

"Ha…what makes you say that?" Jett laughed dryly while watching Chris's bright little face. His little brother was too naïve for his own good.

"Sometimes when you're done talking to him…you cry," Chris murmured softly. Jett's face flushed dark red as his pride was promptly given a thrashing but he could not deny the teen's words.  
"Do you hate big brother?"

"No!" Jett answered immediately before clamping a hand over his mouth and glaring at the ground. "I mean yes. Yes, I hate him…I think. Look, it's complicated and you're still just a kid. Don't worry about it. What's more important is that you don't hate him. You're too good for hate, so never grow to hate anyone. You understand?" Jett spoke firmly before adding softly, "I'll hate enough for the both of us."

"Why do you hate him?" Chris continued to question though he could see his brother did not hate the man. Chris was young but he did understand his brother quite well. The answer did not come as quickly this time, instead Jett continued to stare at the ground and when he did open his mouth to answer it came out in a slow whisper.

"He's hurt people…" Jett murmured in a meek voice that Chris had never heard him use before. Jett sounded tired, just for a moment he truly looked as old as he was. Although their bodies did not age like humans they still did age and they remembered far longer lives than their people, and in that second Jett looked as tired as any human would for all the years he had lived. Tired and sad. "He's made others hurt people. He's cruel, he abandoned us, he hates us."

"Does he…?" Chris frowned at this, he'd only just learnt of this big brother England and he couldn't imagine being hated by a person he did not know. "Did he hurt you?"

Again there was a pause after those words and without answering, Jett lowered himself to his knees and gently rest his hands on Chris' shoulders. He wore a thin smile but still tried to show Christian a kind expression, though he'd forced that fake face to the point of pain.

"What's important is that he doesn't hurt _you_. The most important thing in the world is that nobody, ever, ever hurts you." Jett smiled faintly, the expression still tired but at the very least earnest. "I promise I'd die before I let anyone hurt you, even England."

Chris didn't know what to say. He did not think anyone would want to hurt him. Chris had not yet fully grasped the concept of being a country. One way or another people would hurt him, if they wanted to or not had nothing to do with it. Still Jett's promise put his mind at ease, at least until he mentioned dying.

"I don't want you to die!" Chris protested and Jett laughed, enveloping his brother in a tight hug.

"I got ya, mate, I got ya. I'll try not to die and I'll always protect you. So if someone is ever bullying you, just give me a shout and I'll drop everything to come and save you."

 _I don't want you to…_ Chris thought desperately, crying those words out inside his head over and over again. _I don't want you to be hurt for me!_

…  
…  
...  
  


"Kid, get _back_!" Chris was jerked out of his thoughts by Gilbert's shout of warning. He was pulled back into the muddy battlefield, a scene he had never actually been thrown into the deep end in before. Jett had always sheltered him from this and now that he was here Chris was out of his depth at least in that respect.

In his protective arms, Chris held Zea tight, shielding the smaller of the two brothers from anything that may try to hurt him and all the while he knew Zea had seen battle more than he had. It didn't matter, Toby was smaller and he was the younger brother and so Chris had to protect him with all his might, Jett taught him that if nothing else in this madness. It was this way of thinking that Chris and Zea were relying on to drag this bloody affair to an end.

"Toby, can you run?" Chris demanded hastily, looking down at his brother's bandaged leg. It was not a wound inflicted by another country so it had healed rapidly, faster than Chris's own injuries but it was still troubling even Zea couldn't walk away after being impaled by a wooden spear.  
Gritting his teeth Zea took one sparing glance down at his own leg, looking frustrated as he calculated just how far he'd get. Gradually, he gave a slow uncertain nod.

"Yeah, I can do it." He muttered grimly yet both knew it was unlikely he'd get far with it, but he was too stubborn to admit to such a thing and Chris would respect that pride until it became dangerous. Putting on a smile, Chris nodded in return and with his body still shielding Zea, the two began to double back the way they'd come, trying to escape the more violent scuffles going on around them. Chris' eyes, however, stayed locked on only one.

"Say, why don't you just hand him over right now?" A cheerful voice sung out followed by a grunted sound of agony and the sickening thud of metal meeting flesh.

Gilbert staggered back a few feet as he desperately clutched his shoulder where Russia's pipe had rendered the limb useless with one unsympathetic blow. Russia followed after Gilbert in a casual stroll while the beaten albino continued to back up, working to keep Ivan from getting any closer to his true target but all of Gil's efforts were falling short. It didn't help that at every opportunity Ivan would remind him of their days together with an unpleasantly eerie smile.

"There's no point in protecting the little ones, da?" Ivan reasoned as though Gilbert may just suddenly see reason and stop his already pathetic attempts to keep him at bay.

"Ha, like hell I will." Gilbert snarled back and with the arm not hanging limp by his side as he brandished his sword against Ivan once again, bringing the giant's nonchalant strides towards him to an end. Ivan wore a genuinely surprised expression, as though he could not understand why Gilbert was being so stubborn.

Bearing his teeth at the other Gilbert put on a smirk, determined to show he wouldn't cower away from Russia as he once did. He was the awesome Prussia and god damn it, Ivan was going to remember it!  
"Those two over there are under my charge!" He growled at Ivan, hand tightening on the hilt of the blade. "Unlike you I look after those under my wing."

Tilting his head to the side Ivan wore a childish expression at those words, with just a hint of irritation growing in his violet hues.  
"What is Gilbert saying…?" Ivan complained quietly, lifting an already bloodstained hand to touch his scarf thoughtfully.

"It's almost like Gil thinks Ivan is mean…" Russia spoke as though he was asking someone else these questions, but that childlike façade faded slightly as he turned a pair of sharp eyes Gil's way and smirked.  
"Almost like he doesn't remember how well Ivan treated him."

Prussia visibly flinched back, both the familiar warning tone and gaze causing his body to shudder but still he refused to back down and quickly recovered. Seeing that Gilbert wasn't going to crack just under the pressure of his words, Ivan decided a bit more pressure from his pipe would do the trick. It worked a charm in the past.

Gilbert saw the attack coming but his defence was slowly losing its effectiveness with his arm essentially becoming dead weight. Still he was able to stop the pipe from bashing his skull in and even returned a blow of his own, surprising Russia. The sharpened tip of Prussia's blade flew towards Russia's throat, the albino wishing for nothing more than to see it run through the bastard.  
The shrill cry of metal meeting metal rung out between the two of them as Ivan's pole met the tip of Gilbert's blade, stopping it within inches of its goal and drawing forth a furious growl from the platinum haired male.

"Ah, Ivan almost forgot." Russia murmured thoughtfully, his expression somewhat gloomy as he held Gilbert at bay with little effort. "The game has gotten a little unfriendly…"

"Game?" Gilbert snarled back furiously. He knew how unstable Russia was, he'd learnt it very well over the years but still Ivan never failed to strike a new raw nerve in him each time they met. "This is nothing like a game!" Gilbert shouted at Ivan, the two close enough that they might have whispered and still heard one another.

"Well, of course it's a game." Ivan laughed cheerfully. "Good friends playing together like this is fun, da?"

Gilbert snapped, eyes going wide as his harsh hues burned hateful holes into Ivan's cool, dim eyes.  
"Fun…?" Gil repeated quietly, the pressure from his blade easing off as he stepped away from Russia who only watched with innocent puzzlement.

"You think this is _fun_?" Snarling the spiteful words at the silent Russian, Gilbert bit his lip to try and control the heat that raged behind his eyes. Shakily reaching up with a bit of effort, Prussia grabbed a hold of his shoulder and unceremoniously shoved it back into place. It hurt and Gilbert cried out in an agonised grunt but still he did not hesitate or pause as his newly active if not a little bit clumsy hand grabbed hold of the hilt of his blade alongside the other.

"There is absolutely nothing fun about this!" All but screaming the words Prussia lifted his gaze to meet Ivan's, fire meeting ice as their eyes locked and distantly Ivan remembered the warmth that Prussia had once brought to his home. It was a pity that it would only burn Ivan if he tried to get too close.  
With hands tightly clasping his weapon, Gilbert lunged to attack Russia as quickly and violently as his sore joints would allow and to some extent Ivan struggled to keep up with his raw anger.  
It was only when Gilbert landed a small slash against Ivan's face and left him with a single cut on his cheek, a single bead of thick black blood rolling down Ivan's pale cheek, that Gilbert stopped his onslaught to speak again. It was not Gilbert's brightest moment.

"This isn't a game and we aren't your friends. No one is _ever_ going to be your friend!"

Prussia had taken a misstep. He had a habit of upsetting Ivan every time he opened his mouth and this time was no exception. The second the words left his mouth Ivan's attitude changed and he was no longer smiling. One moment Gilbert was shouting and the next he was thrown off his feet by a violent force that pummelled into his stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. His body heaved nauseatingly and his bones began to groan under the strain as Gil curled around the pipe that struck him.

"Why would Gilbert say that to Ivan…?" Russia whispered, voice lacking any of the usual sweetness or gentle nature. He was all but growling at the injured Prussian. "That is very mean…Gilbert is a bully. Gilbert has _always_ been a bully."

Gilbert let out a sickening gagging sound at the pipe that was already pressed too deep twisted and pushed further, from his mouth a mixture of blood and spit was hurled as Gilbert retched violently. The sword dropped from his useless fingers and Gilbert collapsed to his knees, barely able to breathe as the Russian monster stared down at him with fragmented eyes.

"Ivan thought he would forgive Gilbert one day for being so mean. If Gilbert would only be his friend all would be forgiven. Even after Prussia fell and Gilbert was spared, even when he became East and Ivan looked after him so kindly Even after all that Gilbert won't be Ivan's friend," Struggling to raise his pounding head, Gilbert was just able to glare from under his eyelashes at Russia who began to lift the pipe up once more.

"Ivan tried so hard to forgive the Teutonic Knights…" Russia smiled, though he seemed on the verge of tears. "But Gil still won't be kind to Ivan!"

Gilbert's eyes widened as he saw the pipe begin to swing downward, the fear in his eyes was very real and though he'd not cry out and give voice to the weakness, Ivan could see it just fine from his position above Prussia. As the pipe came down Ivan smiled, tears still burning in his mindless eyes.

"Not a chance, mate!"

_Clang!_

Ivan was thrown off balance as something hard collided with his pipe, knocking it from its intended target, - Gilbert's head. The force jolted up Ivan's arms and flung the faucet from his gloved hands, leaving the bloodstained pipe to land harmlessly on the muddy ground a short distance away from its master.  
For a brief few seconds Ivan only stared dumbfounded at his hands were his pipe had once sat so comfortably, it took the Russian a few seconds to realise what had happened and for his brain to process what to do next.

Looking up, Ivan caught sight of the culprit. With one arm shielding his little brother and the other still poised from the throw, Chris stood across from Ivan with a glare aimed at him. As Ivan's cold gaze rest on the small Australian boy, he noticed how he seemed to tremble and Ivan did not try to hide the smile that came onto his face at the sight, for all his bravado it seemed the younger brother was just as skittish as the older. Gradually, Ivan's gaze slipped away from the Australian and to his pipe to the projectile that had caught it from his grasp. Lying next to his boot was a curved wooden tool and at first Russian did not recognise it, but after some thought he realised it was a boomerang from Australia. Soundlessly, Ivan crouched as he slowly bent his knees so he could reach out and touch the smooth surface of the weapon curiously. It was broken, cracked right down the middle, no doubt from its harsh impact with the pipe.

When he looked back up at Chris and spoke it was a childish voice he used, one dripping with a venomously sweet tone.  
"I thought that they came back?"

Chris gritted his teeth as he grunted in annoyance. Boomerangs were meant to come back yeah sure, but in this case it was only used to save Gilbert's skin. Its return trip had been meant for Ivan's pipe, not Chris' hand and it had worked perfectly. It was a hunting tool above all else but in the past Chris had always struggled to use it properly while Jett could make them return with ease.

_"It's not magnetic, you know!" Jett would scold him when he got upset over a boomerang that refused to come back to him. "You got to throw it right for crying out loud Alright, stop your snivelling. We'll try again later."_

Christian had always vowed to get it right one day as it seemed to upset Jett that he couldn't use the aboriginal tool correctly, it just so happened the one time he got it right Jett was not there to see it.

"You were always rubbish with those…" Zea murmured quietly, just as surprised as Christian was by the success.

"Yeah… but Gilbert was about to get thwacked into next week." Chris muttered back, body still tense from the sudden decision to throw the weapon at Russia. If it was luck or genuine skill that landed the hit he couldn't be sure but Chris didn't care either way, all that mattered was that at least for the moment Gilbert was still breathing and conscious.

"Okay, so good news. My boomerang skills are officially awesome and Gil still has his brains in his head." Chris said optimistically with a clap of his hands.  
"In other, _less_ good news, now the crazy bastard is looking at us…and walking over." He added as both he and Zea cringed from the cruel stare that came their way followed by a very unhappy Russia.

"You…" Toby began to growl something derogatory at Chris but didn't get the chance to finish as he was suddenly scooped up in his arms with a cry of protest. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"In light of recent developments, I've decided retreat is the best course of action." Chris laughed as he hightailed it out of there with Zea nestled uncomfortably in his arms. Zea was busy shouting his curses while Chris did his best to put some distance between them and Russia while simultaneously reasoning with his unruly little brother.

"You're not getting far with that gammy leg, just swallow ya pride and rely on me will ya?" Chris was smiling but he took a cautious look over his shoulder and saw the distance, instead of growing, had actually shrunk. That cold bastard's legs were too long! Still Christian was relieved, he had to get Russia away from Prussia and baiting him was working out pretty well.  
Now came the second part of the plan…what happened when he caught them?

Chris's smile faded into a somewhat desperate expression when he realised that Russia would catch them and quickly at that. Zea's furious complaints died down when he noticed Chris's feverish gaze, he looked genuinely spooked and Toby wasn't faring much better. They'd never had another country out for their blood before, at least never like this it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"Ah, got you~!"

Chris's eyes shot open as that honey sweet voice spoke from just behind them. He hadn't realised just how quickly Russia had come up on them. Chris felt a very large and very cold hand brush against his shoulder and he tensed in expectation of the feeling of icy claws to viciously bury into him, but it never came.  
Just as quickly as the presence was there it was removed, along with the sound of a gun being fired.  
Twisting on the ball of his foot Chris turned to see a young human taking aim at Russia after his first shot narrowly missed. The young man was one of their own and he'd just saved the two of them. Without missing a beat, he aimed up another shot at the scowling Russian.

"Sir!" The young man called out urgently. "Escape quickly and find Sir Jett." The young man did not avert his gaze from the target he'd taken on. It was foolish, he couldn't be expected to size up to a country and against Russia he stood even less of a chance. Chris was going to tell him as much but the moment he opened his mouth to shout the warning the boy was tossed off his feet with a single swing of Russia's pipe. Flinching, Chris stared in horror as one of his own humans was knocked out cold on the muddy ground and he could not block out the sounds of fragile human bones crunching under the fatal blow.

Chris felt it when he hit the ground, it was quick but he most definitely felt it. One of the millions of voices that Jett had taught him to treasure and protect was just snuffed out and Ivan didn't seem to be affected by the action in the slightest.  
_I can't do this_ Chris realised sorrowfully. _I can't do what they do! I can't kill like they do. It's too…cold._

Cracking his neck with a happy little sigh, Russia looked over at Chris and Toby once again rather enjoying Christian's horrified face.  
"Your humans are so rude, Chris Getting in the way of our game of chase." He was walking towards them, so sure of his ability to reach them that he didn't even feel the need to run and he was right Chris couldn't move.

 _That was my man_. Chris's frazzled mind thought desperately, unable to rip his gaze from the crumpled body lying motionless on the ground behind Russia.  
_My human, that boy was my- he was our- he was mine and Jett's precious human_!  
  


…  
…  
...  
  


"Now remember, Chris. You gotta treat folks right around here." Jett told him, putting on his teacher act in front of the younger Aussie. "If ya don't, they'll give you a run for your money, I'll tell you. They can get unruly."

"But I'm Australia, right?" Chris complained. "Shouldn't they…I dunno, serve me or something?"

_Thwack!_

Chris yelped, hands going to his head where Jett had smacked him. With a pitiful sniffle Chris sulked in front of Jett.  
"What was that for?"

"Ya got it backwards, mate. You serve them." Jett told him firmly. "They are everything and everything you do is for them. Do you understand?"

"Not really…" Chris admitted quietly, still sulking as he was scolded. Jett gave a heavy sigh before bending low so he could look at Christian closely.

"It's not hard. Just look here." Pressing a hand to his little brother's chest Jett grinned. "Your heart is beating, right?"

"Obviously." Chris snapped, he wasn't an idiot! Jett merely chuckled at his indignant expression and continued.

"Your heart only beats if theirs do. What this feels, is what they feel. If they're angry, you will be angry. If they're suffering, you will suffer too, got it?" Jett told him quietly, Chris always knew better than to talk back to Jett when he used this tone. When he spoke softly Chris had come to realise he was deadly serious.

"What if they die?" Chris asked, he knew humans came and went quickly, did he have to feel every single death?

"I suppose if they own enough of your heart you'll feel it." Jett admitted. "If enough people get hurt your punishment for not protecting them is being hurt as well. So just do your job and look after them as best you can. They are your people. You got to love them and they'll love you."

Jett's hand left his chest and Chris looked down in puzzlement. He'd always felt the same, he'd always felt the people and occasionally there was a great deal of sadness that would come out of nowhere and Chris could only assume it was them.

"Is that why I get so unruly when the footy starts?" Chris asked suddenly and the realisation dawned on. Jett had laughed at that and pat his head affectionately.

Chris didn't want to say it out loud that day but yeah, he loved them. Every single human in his land he loved. Sometimes it was hard to love some of them and sometimes he had to scold them like children or just hand them over to Jett for worse punishment but he never lost their warmth.

More importantly they were a gift. Jett had passed on the safe keeping of the Australians to Christian So Chris had to do everything he could to guard them. They were the most important gift and job Jett had ever given him and Christian did not want to let Jett down.  
  


…  
…  
...  
  


 _And I let them down_. The thought was so crippling that Chris could not even see the danger rapidly approaching. Slowly that crushing sadness and guilt was replaced with a darker feeling and Chris' despairing look slowly shifted into a scathing scowl. He _hated_ Russia.

_Sorry Jett in the end I learnt how to hate as well._

"Chris, what are you doing?" Zea hissed, a little bit of desperation seeping into his voice as he clawed at his brother's shirt, green eyes fixed on the looming form of Russia. "Run already, you bloody moron!"

Chris wore a hateful expression but with a single grim nod he acknowledged his brother's fear and began to back up. First, he needed to get Zea out of here. His mind was rapidly adding everything up as he became alert and frantic.  
_He keeps coming after me._ Chris reasoned to himself _. So if I separate myself from Zea and put him somewhere safe I can lead Russia away just like we did with Gilbert._ _That'll do it._

"Sir, quickly get behind us! We'll hold him off." Another human voice called but this time it was not a single boy but a group of his comrades. Chris took one glance at them and then at Russia's smiling face and growled. Turning to his men Chris held out Toby who only had enough time to look alarmed before he was delivered unceremoniously into an unfamiliar pair of Australian arms.

"You get my baby bro out of here." Chris ordered. "Get him to his own men and away from here. You do not engage with Russia." The words came out quickly but more force than any of the soldiers had ever heard their country speak with, he almost sounded grown up.

Chris was easy going and a bit of a brat, they'd never seen him serious before but standing there in front of them now was not the grinning child of a country they'd protected in the war zone. Standing in the gradually hardening rain, ankle deep in mud and littered with scars and bruises was not the naïve Aussie they'd grown up to know.  
In front of them now was the nation of Australia, and he was furious.

"What are you doing!?" Zea shouted, reaching out for Chris as his brother turned away from him. "You'll get killed, you idiot!" Toby tried to stop Chris but his big brother simply looked over his shoulder and grinned to comfort the other.

"You'd only slow me down, ya gump. Get someplace safe. You can scold me all you want when we're both alive. I'm off to find big brother. Later." With that cheerfully spoken goodbye, Chris broke away from his men and ran as fast as his injured body would allow back to where the most fighting was taking place.

Russia had a surprised look on his face when he saw his target give up his little brother and try fleeing. That expression quickly twisted into an eerie smile and with his bloody pipe held effortlessly he stalked after the escaping nation, calling after him playfully.

"Where's little Australia going? There's no one left to help him." Ivan called brightly, not expecting a response other than fear from the other.  
Chris turned back, skipping on his feet across the muddy ground with a shit eating grin plastered on his face. The murky water splashed up as he skidded back, keeping his legs moving as he backpedalled expertly.

"If you want me, you're gonna have to catch me." He shouted back jeeringly, again surprising Russia.  
As he all but danced across the battlefield, Chris's green-eyed gaze caught sight of the solider that had defended he and his brother and the smirk he wore twitched slightly. Chris was fuming but he knew his chances against Russia were slim and so he wore a confident face in front of the other.

If he was to get even a little bit of a chance Christian knew he had to lure Russia out and keep a good distance away, if Russia caught him he wasn't going to get out a second time. In the midst of all these problems Chris had only one other objective and that was to find Jett. The second he found Jett, Russia wouldn't be able to touch him and so that was his best defence. How manly, hiding behind his big brother from a bully. Well he'd heard of worse ideas to escape Russia.

 _I know this guy's got the advantage…but…_ Chris's playful grin did not reach his eyes as he bore a cold stare into the other and just like Ivan's smile –it was all for show. _I'll show him what it means to play tag with an Australian._

And so the game of cat and mouse continued.

Chris felt lowly as he easily skirted around the battlefield. He knew the fire that drove him to draw Russia away was nothing more than the hate that Jett had tried so hard to stop him from feeling. Christian wanted to be the Australia that Jett so often praised and loved but today he couldn't be that Chris.  
With green eyes narrowed into slits, Chris realised he'd lost sight of Russia somewhere in the mess of fighting humans and nations. Russia should have stood out with his white and creamy colours, but Chris's frenzied eyes couldn't seem to spot him at all.

Knowing he was not lucky enough to have shaken the other so easily, Chris kept on guard as his hand gradually moved down to the club securely locked on his belt. Jett had often complained that Chris should use a more modern weapon but the club was something of a special item to Chris. He'd woken up with it and met Jett with it still latched to his belt.

…  
…  
...  
  


"Where did you get that club?" Jett asked one afternoon while trying fruitlessly to bring their washing machine back to life. At this rate it'd just regurgitate the inky black suds all over the floor. Chris glanced at the club he placed on the kitchen table and shrugged nonchalantly. He didn't know where it came from, he just always had it.

"Um you should probably get rid of it," Jett spoke in a casual tone, but Chris noticed the slightly uneasy tone he tried to hide. "Or maybe put it in the shed."

"Naw, it's fine. I don't think anyone is missing it." Chris shrugged, ignoring his brother's slightly unusual behaviour.

"If it's not yours, get rid of it!" Jett snapped abruptly with a hand slamming against the washing machine. An eerie silence followed the outburst, both brothers staring at one another. Jett grit his teeth and looked away from Chris until his gaze landed on the club, making him cringe and glare at the ground.  
Only to see the inky suds of death beginning to coat his shoes.

"Oh god damn it!" Jett cursed, going back to the washing machine to try and stop the bubbly liquid from spreading all throughout the kitchen. Chris had only watched, still taken aback by the outburst, so much so he didn't even laugh at his brother's struggles.

He's stared at his club, unable to place his finger on what it was about his personal weapon that upset Jett so much.  
  


...  
…  
…  
  


" _Where did you get that club?_ "  
Chris knew what it meant now.  
" _Whose club is that?"_

Chris's fingers ghosted over the smooth wooden surface and just for a moment his gaze left the muddy battlefield to look down at the club, and as his eyes raked over the weapon he saw nothing unusual. It was just _his_ club.

_Why did I wake up with it?  
Why did I first wake up at a grave?_

Chris would only ever wonder these things when he felt particularly low. Usually, he was too busy swimming or making fun of Zea to care but as of late he'd been wondering more often. Gradually, Chris' eyes lifted back to the scene in front of him, he couldn't be distracted at a time like this.  
But when he looked up he found his own face looking back at him.

Tensing, Chris's hand tightened on his club as he stared wide-eyed at the young boy with his face. He stood still as a statue in the middle of the fighting and should someone touch him they simply passed right through his senses. The dark skinned boy was staring at Chris and knowing he had the Aussie's attention he mouthed the familiar words.

_Who are you?_

"What's so fascinating?" Chris' eyes snapped wide open, breaking from his trance when he heard that playful voice from behind him. Without needing any more warning Chris lunged forward, ducking away from a potentially fatal swing of Russia's pipe. He felt the air whip past his neck as it so narrowly missed him. Ducking down into a roll, Australia did not pay any mind to the mud that crawled its way into his eyes and clothes or the murky water that splashed against his cheek as he did a quick dismount from his roll and took off on foot once again.

This time his skilful feet did him little good with the close proximity to Russia. He could hear the pounding footsteps behind him, not willing to give him any room. Russia might call it a game but the second he got within grabbing distance, it would turn into a quick kill. Still Russia was large and Chris was able to weave his way through people with greater ease than Russia.  
Didn't help the damn icy bastard only had to push them aside to keep up.  
Despite this Chris was just able to stay ahead and was confident he could shake the Russian again.

Then Christian took a misstep.  
The mud under his feet was too churned up by other's boots along with the murky water and the second he set foot on it he was gone. Slipping out from under him, Chris' balance went flying along with his feet, he didn't even get the chance to stumble or try picking himself back up as he fell flat onto the filthy ground below.  
His club fell against the ground harshly and rolled a small distance from where Chris had fallen.

With his arms keeping his face from being pressed into the muddy earth, Chris began to pick himself back up and when his eyes caught notice of his dropped club he tried reaching for it.  
He never got the chance to grab it, however, as a large boot came flying down on the outstretched hand, pinning it down and effectively re-breaking the bones that had just healed from Jett's little outburst back home.

"Really now." Russia chided gently when Chris screamed, the loud cry quickly turning to a hiss of pain as he grit his teeth to try and limit the sounds. When he was able to quiet himself down a little Russia's foot pressed down more, drawing forth pained gasps and cries again. Chris' free hand clawed frantically at the heavy boot, urgently trying to remove the crushing pressure from his injured hand. When moving the boot proved about as useful as pushing against a glacier, Chris tried to push himself up but the gentle pressure of the tip of Russia's pipe against the small of his back kept Chris down without difficulty.

"You're only going to hurt yourself more, little Christophe." Ivan laughed, getting his name wrong on purpose. Christian snarled and glared at Russia from the corner of his eye, seeing the large nation smiling pleasantly down at him. "My, my, what a hateful gaze. Ivan didn't think you had a face like that."

As Russia cooed the sickly sweet words he twisted his boot slightly, enjoying the barely contained groan of agony it produced from the other. He should do away with the fallen nation quickly but there'd be no fun in that. He had no reason not to take his time, and with none of the other nations in sight, he could easily toy with the other without consequence.

"Were you running to Jett, I wonder?" Ivan thought aloud while glancing around as though he expected to see the other's big brother. "Think he'd save you, da?" Ivan was annoyed that the little Australian wasn't particularly chatty. Here he was trying to hold a decent conversation and all the other did was cry, how inconsiderate.

"I'm sure he'll be happy when you are gone." Ivan's tone dropped into an icy sneer, perhaps cruelty would drive a proper response from the other. "He can have Australia back. You do not suit being a nation." Ivan's smile fell as he looked at the squirming Australian.

In truth he wasn't sure how much he believed that. He had little transactions with the boy, but every time he saw him the nation had grinned a bright smile. Ivan had often been taken aback by that smile and decided he was faking it a while back. But the more he saw him and the more that smile appeared, the more Ivan came to realise it was his true face. He was actually that warm a person. Someone honest, kind-hearted and loved by almost everyone he met, not anything like Ivan himself.  
Christian should be a person that Ivan liked but he just could not.  
Ivan could not stop hating the young nation.

"What the hell would you know?" Ivan blinked in surprise when he finally got intelligible words from his captive. "What the _fuck_ would you know about Jett or me?" Those spiteful words were spat at Ivan and gradually his expression darkened considerably.

The warmth that drew him to Jett, made him angry when it came from Chris. Whenever he saw that happy smile, he wanted to cave the other's face in. Ivan found Jett's warmth dazzling in its ferocity and the fact it had been born from suffering, he found Christian's warmth insufferable and stuffy as it was born from an easy existence. Chris's innocent, naïve face pissed Ivan off.  
Christian had been given everything from the day he was born, he was nothing like Russia who was born into the cold and without any kind of affection. Chris had no bullies or people who wished to hurt him and instead had a family that loved him dearly and protected his precious smile above all else. Christian had lead an easy, carefree life at the expense of Jett's happiness and Ivan _hated_ him for it.

"I…really hate people like you." Ivan murmured quietly, the words almost lost on Christian, they were so lowly spoken.

"Can't say I'm terribly fond of you either, mate." Chris growled back but was promptly shut up by another sharp pressure to his hand.

"You, who grew up in a warm place full of love and protection has no right to speak. People like you and America are spoiled, rotten children." Ivan smiled cheerfully down at Chris even as he continued to crush his already shattered hand. "You can repay your brother's warmth and kindness by dying."

Chris felt tears welling up in his eyes and try as he might he could not blink them away. He knew his hand was useless and the other was going to get the same treatment if he moved it for his club.  
Perhaps it might be best if he died. Jett could just be Australia, right?

That pitiful thought didn't sit quite right with him or the dark skinned boy that watched him and again Chris heard that question.

_Who are you?_

"I don't know…"  
Barely able to lift his head from the mud, Chris was only just able to see the boy looking at him with a puzzled expression, as though he was confused as to why he was letting Russia walk all over him.  
Oh, _okay_ , let's see him get trampled on by the god damn mammoth of a country and then he could judge!  
Chris seethed when thinking how unfair it was before the boy spoke again, it was a different question this time.

_Why do you forget everything?_

Chris only stared at the other, not sure if it was right to answer to his own hallucination. That would make him bonkers, wouldn't it? A complete fruit loop? Something like that. Hell, he might just be as mad as Arthur with his unicorn nonsense.

"Are you listening, Christophe?" Ivan asked curiously when he noticed his captive seemed a little distracted, perhaps he should strike him a few times just to remind him that he was with someone.

"It's because I'm scared…" Chris whispered and again Ivan was thrown off guard. It was not unusual for people to speak about being afraid around Ivan but he hadn't even gotten to that question yet.

On Chris's side he could see the boy watching him closely, sizing up that answer before glancing to the club on the ground. Chris watched with tired, pained eyes as the young boy with his face wandered closer, nudging the bat with his foot though he passed right through the solid object.

_If you don't know who you are and won't remember who you were why are you even alive?_

Again the boy looked at Chris, awaiting an answer from the damaged, filthy nation. Chris stared back and somewhere in the back of his head he understood that his answer would define exactly what he would do next and who he would be.

 _"I have a feeling that before I was born someone asked me something important."_ Chris remembered his own words to Zea when they were stuck in that cold ass cell and as he looked at the dark skinned boy now. Chris was fairly sure that this person was him.  
He'd probably asked him this question back then as well.

"I know I've been hiding, I've done some things I regret. Every mistake I have made has brought me here and this is exactly where I have to be." Christian muttered under his breath, too quiet for the Russian to catch.

 _And where is here?_ The ghostly boy asked Chris curiously, though he swore that the boy was smiling.

"You're a little bit dull. You're not Australia at all just a boring boy." Ivan complained and moved the pressure of his pipe from the boy's back. "It's alright though, you'll scream wonderfully I'm sure." With that Russia brought the pipe up, judging just how many hits it was going to take to break the other. He did not realise just how close the Aussie was to snapping and responding violently, Ivan did not realise he should have made the job quick and that last little comment about not being Australia. Well, that did it.

"I know exactly what I want and who I am! I know exactly who was and who I want to be." Chris grit his teeth and with all the body bending he could manage, he punched the back of Russia's knee, able to make the other's leg go weak for just long enough to slide his abused hand free. With his body released from its muddy prison, Chris leapt up and shouted his answer.

"I am Australia, damn it!" Without pausing to think, Chris followed through with a solid upper cut to Russia's chin, determined to have the other go down this time around.  
"Right here by my brothers is where I want to be!"

Even with his hand damaged Chris dove for his club, snatching it up off the ground as he began to run off again. As his fingers curled around the club, he glanced at the boy from the corner of his eye, the two watching one another as they passed.  
Just as Chris took his first running step, he heard the boy mutter.

_"Good answer."_

With a grin, Chris spun on his foot, back to face the startled Russian as he held his bruised face, looking as though he was still trying to register the sudden flurry of movement and the loss of his target… _again_.

"Oi! Listen up, you icy bastard!" Chris shouted, pointing the club at Russia. "I am Australia and I am Jett's brother."  
Swinging the club over his shoulder, he smirked coolly at the other.  
"Don't think I'm going to give up anything to someone like you, especially not my brother."

Ivan's eyes slowly turned cold and his smile faded once again. The hand that had touched his sore cheek now curled into a tightened fist. This time the smile did not return as the temperature continued to plummet and the eerie violet glow resurfaced from Ivan's core.

"Are you saying you are standing in the way of what I want?" Ivan murmured softly and with a sharp laugh as he scowled back at Christian. "Then I'll simply have to kill you quickly. Play time is over."

Chris stared back at Ivan, trying not to shudder under the intensity of that glare. If he could keep out of reach he'd be able to find Jett in time and Russia would come undone, now all he had to do was keep up on his feet and keep moving, it would be easy.

Oh, but Ivan knew this as well and with a dark sneer curling on his face, the Russian looked at Chris' legs.  
He was going to break them apart.  
  


…  
…(Oh my, look where we are again.)  
…  
  


_End of the Line._

 

On the other side of the battlefield things were getting a little sloppy.

Covered from head to toe in mud, Jett lunged for his big brother again. He'd lost track of how many times their blades had met or how many times he'd been thrown into the watery soil only to get back up and attack again in a blind frenzy. No matter how many times he tried to strike Arthur, his big brother's careful footing and speed made landing a solid blow almost impossible.  
While Jett was dishevelled and coated in mud, Arthur remained fairly clean though the rain had started to soak them to the bone and it showed no sign of easing up.

 _Raining, huh?_ Jett thought offhandedly as he picked himself up again and ran in for another swing. _Funny it always seems to rain when…tch!_

Jett's attack became off balanced and clumsy as his mind wandered into dangerous territory, Arthur saw it as well and with a single swift twist of his sword he'd thrown Jett off balance and into the mud once again. Immediately, England prepared for another strike but this time his brother hesitated for a moment. Arthur lowered his blade a fraction, looking at Jett's wide eyes as he stared into the puddles that formed from where their shoes had sunk too deeply into the ground. Arthur looked at those wide dirty green eyes and wondered what was going through his younger brother's head.  
He could guess…

"We could go home together this time." Arthur insisted, watching cautiously as Jett's head inched up slightly, an indication he was listening. "It doesn't have to be like that day back in England. This time you don't have to reject my offer, you don't need to be sent away."

It had been raining on that day as well the day when Jett was given that inflamed scar across his face. It had been raining on the day that he and England had split from one another. Arthur began to get desperate when Jett said nothing and remained sitting on the dirty ground at his feet.

"Isn't this enough?" Arthur pleaded, not meaning to snap but he was so high-strung that the words came out without his consent. "Hasn't this nonsense gone on long enough, Jett? Let's put a stop to this petty war and go home." He was running out of ideas, time and energy. Jett was faring worse and it pained Arthur to see his little brother littered in wounds, both old and new, while sitting in the filthy rain muddled dirt.

"Blast it. Just this once do as you're told!" The words were out before Arthur could stop him and again Jett was staring at him with those cold, agonised eyes. Flinching back, Arthur slowly grabbed the hilt of his sword, knowing he'd stumbled back a step and not a moment later his suspicion was confirmed as Jett once again on his feet lunged for his brother.  
The all-too familiar sound of a machete meeting the smooth surface of Arthur's sword rung in their ears as they clashed together, but Arthur was not ready to give up his attempt at reasoning with the other.

Jett heard his words, he took them in and obviously some of the things Arthur said struck a nerve in his little brother both good and bad. Arthur had to convince him to give this up and return to his senses the great nation only hoped he did not have to achieve this with either of their blood being spilt by the other. But already blood was beginning to mingle with the downpour.  
Arthur winced as the stinging in his shoulder became agonising, the bullet wound he'd received from Germany was already beginning to hinder him and it was becoming obvious that his defence and attacks were becoming uneven and even Jett as damaged as he was could just keep up with his big brother and was landing in the mud less and less.

Things with Jett were looking fairly grim as well, despite his efforts to block out any feelings towards his former brother, the words he spoke continued to ring in his head, echoing insistently off the walls of his skull. All the things he said kept running through his head, drowning his conviction in doubt and hesitance. Had Arthur's words not been running through his head, it was very likely that Jett may have already killed the other in this fight and while Arthur stumbled with his injured shoulder, Jett was held back by his uncertainty. He had to move past his reluctance or he was going to lose to England –again.

If he took a single step back...Jett knew it would all fall apart around him and it all would fade to nothingness. There'd be nothing left of him. There was no going back, there never was a chance of going back. Jett realised a while ago that he wanted things to return to how they'd once been but that was impossible, all that was left for him now was to try and move forward. Even if that action meant breaking himself and others in the process.

"I _will_ be free," Jett finally growled through his teeth as he and Arthur remained in another deadlock, neither trying to overtake the other just yet. "I will not be chained by you again, I will be happy this time. Even if I have to cut through you to do it!"

Throwing his weight behind the machete, Jett aimed to jam his shoulder blade into Arthur's injured arm. England stumbled back, taken off guard by the unexpected words and violent response. He thought that Jett intended to slash him again and moved to block it only to receive a crippling blow to his still bleeding shoulder. Excruciating pain exploded along his arm and Arthur let out a groan of anguish. His feet tripped over themselves as Arthur stumbled back, slipping on the unreliable earth under his boots and eventually causing him to fall as Jett had done so many times before.

The second he touched the ground, the filthy sludge painted his clothes and skin wherever it touched, splashing up onto his cheek and dirtying his elegant clothes. Arthur clutched at his shoulder but surrendered his sword in the motion, having acted purely on instinct rather than sense. Realising this and the danger it posed to him, Arthur tried to scramble back up, reaching for his sword in the same unbalanced lunge.

_Crack!_

The snap of the machete's wooden handle against Arthur's head blinded the fallen nation for a brief second. Arthur saw nothing but black spots dancing in his vision as agony spread out through his skull, putting his previous migraines to shame. All the world meetings combined would not be able to induce this level of headache and immediately Arthur knew he was concussed and bleeding from the top of his head. Jett certainly didn't hold anything back from that swing and if he did, it was only enough that the blow did not kill England instantly.

Arthur did not fall into the mud entirely but instead sat on his knees, hands buried in the sickly substance under him as blood and rain began to blend with the filthy earthen mixture. Arthur was aware of Jett standing over him, he could all but feel his little brother's hateful glare boring into the back of his skull and he understood it. Not only did Arthur understand it, but he was no stranger to the feeling.

Smiling bitterly, Arthur's one good eye watched as drops of blood and water slowly dripped from the tips of his matted blonde hair and cringed as the blood turned the water pink on its way down his face. He'd been here before, he recognised this from the past and in that moment Arthur knew he'd lost. It was funny…it seemed all of his little brothers would eventually come to stand above him in this way. Despite the absurdity of it all –Arthur laughed. The sound was dry and pitiful and as he laughed, a muddy hand pressed against his face so that the tears he began to shed were less obvious.

Above him Jett was still standing and if Arthur looked, he knew he would see a pair of empty green eyes staring back. It was that blank stare that separated him from America in a sense. Jett and Alfred were not the same, no matter how similar the scenes were.  
Arthur understood that clearly. America had broken away from England in a painful manner in the same gloomy setting as this dreadful day but it had not been the same. Alfred's eyes were alive and full of life, America was looking forward to what he hoped was a bright future and Australia he was looking back, unable to let go of the dark times.  
England had released America, he had backed down and let go but he could not do that with Jett. No matter how much Jett thought that this was the same, he was wrong.

Knowing all of this, Arthur closed his eyes behind the hand that hid them. He would degrade himself a second time at the feet of his little brother, but this time he wasn't going to let them go. If Australia wanted to move forward, perhaps he could have been released but this was purely cowardice. So despite the humiliation it would bring, Arthur allowed himself to cry in front of Jett on his knees.

"Why…" Broken words came from the fallen nation's mouth. Quietly at first, barely audible above the sound of rain pounding against the earth below and yet somehow the other had still heard him, still heard that single cry of desperation.

It hurt Arthur, it hurt him to show this weak version of himself to Jett, just as it had hurt when he showed Jett a cruel one in the past. But still he did not hide it any more than this, perhaps in a way this was also cruelty. For Arthur it was punishment and for Jett well…perhaps it was a painful reminder of the beginning of this madness – or maybe the end of it.

"Damn it! Why? Tell me, why do you never listen to anything you're told?" There was a pause, shoulders heaved heavily under the pressure of agony and then there was a shout.  
"Why can you never do as you're told!?" That strained voice was thick with the tears he had no doubt been harbouring long before this began. Still Arthur kept his head down, he could not bear to look up and see his brother's face, not yet, he wasn't ready to face those empty eyes.

There was no response from Jett but just for a moment Arthur felt his brother's eyes leave his head. There was a quiet shifting and the sound of a gloved hand tightening around the handle of a machete. Arthur realised Jett was beginning to think again, perhaps it was not much but it was something. If Jett was remembering his big brother America's first birthday as a new nation he might have been in pain. Arthur almost looked up at the thought, but the heat of Jett's gaze returned onto his head and so he dared not move as his body was continuously racked with quiet sobs.

Then it came…

"Jett!" Germany's voice shouted, it sounded like an order from far off and it wasn't just Arthur who heard it. Neither guessed it was not the order they thought it was.

There was a sudden swish of a blade being raised high and Arthur knew Jett would kill him in that moment, Germany's voice alone being enough to cement his conviction. Gritting his teeth roughly, Arthur could take it no more and he looked up at his little brother, shouting to him.

"Answer me…! Australia!"

Jett stood with his machete lifted high above his head, eyes wide with a kind of insanity Arthur rarely saw in other nations in these modern times, but it wasn't the madness that lingered in his brother's shrunken pupils or the machete he held with the intent to murder the nation on his knees it was the tears.

Arthur stared up at Jett who remained frozen in place, tears leaking from his unblinking eyes. It was as though he'd turned into statue, unable to move the strike down on Arthur but not willing to disobey what he thought of a direct order from Germany.  
Slowly, Arthur smiled while the bitter tears he had also been crying remained in his single seeing eye. As this smile appeared, he noticed Jett's arms began to tremble slightly, as though the weight of his intentions was only just now beginning to weigh him down.

"Come home," England insisted gently.

"Don't you get it? We can't go back. I won't go back to being lonely, not again. Please give me my freedom, just this once. It hurts too much…" Jett whispered desperately and Arthur opened his mouth to say something to the other.

Then there was a scream.

Both nations turned at the sound, recognising it was their little brother. Jett's dull eyes shattered, exploding back into life when he saw what had caused his little brother to shout out.

Chris stumbled back away from someone, looking badly battered as he fell over his own two feet onto the muddy ground. It truly wasn't his fault, anyone would be clumsy on their feet after having both legs shot out.   
The blood was choking the younger Aussie as it began to flow down his shins and pool into his shoes, he could feel the sticky substance beginning to stain his pants more than the rainwater.   
The pain that came with the heavy flow of blood was even more overwhelming. Still he tried to scramble back, ignoring the obvious broken bones in his hand that screamed in protest every time he touched the ground.

"Bastard!" Chris snarled as Ivan walked towards him, moving past the humans who were too weak or afraid to step in, not to mention very firmly ordered not to by both parties. "You cheated…!"

"Oh no," Ivan exclaimed innocently as he drew closer to the fallen and feebly struggling nation. "Ivan did not cheat. Merely pooling the local resources." Smiling cruelly, Ivan dangled the gun he'd used to shoot out Chris' legs in front of the collapsed nation cheerfully and in the next moment discarded it without a care.

"Ivan warned you, da? Warned you he'd break your legs if you kept running," Russia purred maliciously to the other as he advanced.

"You little Australians are funny, you all fall for Ivan's tricks when playing games!" Ivan laughed cheerfully, feeling no guilt in the fact he'd been able to beat both Jett and Chris with underhanded tactics. "But now little Australia can't run away anymore. The game is won, da?" Ivan's smile continued to grow as he closed the distance between them, all but bending over the scowling Aussie.

"So all that Ivan has to do now…is to remove the loser and be taking prize."  
And then the beating began.  
At first Ivan's blows were fairly tame, not even breaking any bones yet as he took pleasure in each winded gasp and cry of pain that the swing of the pipe produced. However, it did not take long for each hit to increase in its savageness and the sounds of joints being dislocated and bones shattering echoed around them. There was no question that in two or three more hits Chris would be dead and Jett could _feel_ it. With every blow that landed on Chris's body, Jett felt in his own, watered down but still painful.  
It did not occur to Jett that this was the first time he'd been linked to Chris in a while. Even if it had, it amounted to nothing as his dread grew.

In an instant Arthur was forgotten, he meant absolutely nothing in that moment. Jett's eyes lost their cold edge and instead became frantic as he raced from his own fight and left Arthur breathing in favour of reaching his little brother. Jett could see Chris on the ground with Russia standing over him ready to kill his little brother.  
All of his hatred, all of the planning and war was forgotten. Jett didn't give a damn about any of it, not a single bit not if his little brother was in danger.  
What was Russia doing? Why was he doing that with such a cold smile? Damn it, damn it, _damn_ _it_!

"Chris," Jett called his brother's name over the roar of the battle and the pounding of rain. " _Chris_!" He shouted again as he was closer to the other but his voice never made it to the other.  
As he ran Jett passed by both America and Germany, who gave a momentary pause to their own conflict, both having been trying to get their gun before the other but they were taken off guard by Jett dropping everything and running off in some other direction. While America fumbled to shout something after his Australian brother, Germany looked for the source of the problem and immediately his eyes of fell on Australia and Russia and he panicked.

 _'If I lose even one more brother my mind is going with them. So don't let me lose another, alright?'_              
Jett's words to him echoed warningly in Ludwig's brain and he knew if Chris was killed by Russia there'd be no point to this war at all. Jett would just cave in on himself and most likely attempt to kill those responsible for Chris' death.

"Russia, halt!" Germany shouted, trying to put a stop to Ivan's attack but it seemed the Russian was completely deaf to everything other than the young nation he intended to murder.

Russia was speaking rapidly in his native tongue, something frantic and even Chris who was barely hanging on under the pounding of the pipe could see the childishness of Ivan's desperation. It seemed Ivan wasn't going to feel at ease until he erased what he considered to be a threat and in that moment Christian was the only threat he could see.  
He did not even see Jett as he ran for Russia and his little brother.

Jett had dropped his machete as he dashed for his brother, he had no thoughts in his mind other than to save the other. It didn't occur to Jett he'd probably need that in just a moment.  
In his head he could still very clearly remember the day he lost the native boy, the day he'd lost the original Chris and the mere thought of losing him again. Well, Jett had never run so fast in his whole life.  
His body screamed, all the wounds he had suffered that day and the days before it decided now would be a good time to make themselves known. Bleeding and sore, Jett still pushed himself, fire burning up his legs as he forced them to keep moving. Each breath he dragged down his throat was dry and sharp, his lungs were very close to giving up on him, but Jett ignored all of it and continued to push harder.  
And he made it…thank god, he made it.

Relief flooded through Jett as his fingers first felt the rough brush of Chris' clothes under them, followed by his brother's warmth as Jett's arms wrapped tightly around him. With Chris held close to his chest Jett guarded him from Russia's pipe, he wished he had the common sense not to drop his machete so he might block Ivan's attack, but he no longer had that option. So he protected Chris with the last thing he had, himself.

Of course everything was chaos, Ivan didn't even seem to notice Jett as he dove between the two of them but Jett didn't care. He knew that when Ivan's pipe hit him, he'd probably stop breathing altogether but he didn't give it a second thought. But in the back of his mind he apologised, to most everyone and even felt bad for Russia should the blow accidently kill him instead of its intended target. However, Chris was very safe with him and so even if he died, he'd do it protecting his little brother and he'd not regret any part of it.

 _Should have been my goal all along._ Jett thought monotonously as the downward swing of the pipe slashed through the air.  
_Should have protected my brothers first I always should have_ Squeezing his eyes shut, Jett braced himself for the impact, the pain and most likely, death.  
_Well. Better late than never._

…  
….  
…..

……nothing.

Jett felt absolutely _nothing_.  
Not the bone-crunching blow of Ivan's pipe or even the numbness of death. He didn't feel a damned thing other than what he'd already felt. There was nothing but the gentle pitter-patter of rain on his face, the small rivets of water and blood running over his exposed flesh and Chris's warmth shivering under his arms.  
Jett felt nothing new or out of the ordinary, but he had heard the pipe connect with a body.  
It just took him a few seconds to realise it wasn't his own.

Gradually, Jett's eyes peeked open and when he saw that the world was unchanged around him with Chris still very alive in his arms, Jett started to look up.  
The moment his eyes turned upwards he saw someone fall in front of them. There was blood, the red substance flying through the air from the savageness of the impact. The person that began to crumple to the ground in front of them seemed familiar but Jett's brain struggled to process why that was. It was only when Chris cried out that person's name that Jett realised who it was that had been on the receiving end of Russia's attack.

"Arthur!"

Jett's eyes widened and without thinking he released Chris and before Arthur could hit the ground Jett's arms wrapped securely around him, protecting him from further injury. Arthur was dead weight and he brought Jett down with him, causing the Aussie to fall to his knees just to keep hold of him safely. With Arthur nestled protectively in his arms, Jett stared down at the brother he'd tried to kill only minutes before. There was blood covering the left side of his face from where Russia's pipe had struck and the already open wound caused by Jett's machete not too long ago, the bandages that had once covered his missing eye were no longer neatly secured but slowly slipping down the elder nation's face, revealing the inflamed scar that he'd received from Jett all that time ago.

Jett was silent as he held his elder brother, it was strange to think he'd dove to save his falling body at all. Would he have done the same if it was his machete that beat him down? Probably. He was foolish. Ludwig had seen it and Jett knew it, he could never just let someone fall, even an enemy.

"This is why I lose games..." Jett hiccupped softly with a bitter smile on his face. His arms were trembling slightly as they held Arthur's bleeding body close, unwilling to let go even though he knew he should not touch the other.

For a few torturous seconds, Arthur didn't even breathe and it was only when he choked out a dry cough that his body gave a slight shudder and began to function again, but only just. Arthur's one seeing eye cracked open just an inch, staring blankly up at the sky as his body desperately tried to keep functioning after such a blow.  
It should have meant nothing to Jett, nothing at all but his arms refused to release his older brother and instead of leaving him to die, Jett hugged him protectively to his chest.  
Arthur seemed to realise he wasn't quite dead yet and gave a single faint smile accompanied with a dry laugh that resulted in a wince of pain.

"Ahh, I didn't think this through…" Arthur murmured, his words rough and obviously painful to speak.

"Idiot, shut up." Jett muttered furiously. "I-It wasn't meant to hit you, damn it it was meant to hit me. Not you, _me_."

"I'm glad," Arthur continued softly, his eyes closing again as he let out a small shuddering sigh of relief. "That you didn't have to kill another brother."

Jett's shoulders began to shake as he clutched Arthur tighter still, as though he was able to hold his big brother's very life together if he just held tighter. Arthur's eyes opened again when he felt warm tears hitting his bloodstained cheek and looking up at his little brother, now he couldn't help but smile sadly when he saw how Jett cried.

Ivan seemed to come to his senses and realise he'd hit the wrong brother. As he looked between Arthur and his pipe with a puzzled expression like it was a big mystery how it had happened in the first place, Germany grabbed hold of him.

"Not a muscle." Ludwig growled warningly and surprisingly Russia obeyed, seeming to understand that he had made a mistake that would be quite costly. With Ivan being held by someone that was considered an ally, the fighting began to die down, confusion spreading through all the nations' men. Who were they fighting now…? With no orders given they couldn't proceed and so gradually the only sound left in the wake of the ragging battle was the gentle sound of rain and quietly uttered whispers.

"Why…?" Jett whispered in a small, pathetically desperate voice. "Why did you do that? Arthur why did you get in the way?"

Arthur laughed and even though it hurt to do so he couldn't stop himself, reaching up with one hand he touched Jett's cheek softly, before pinching it roughly until Jett cried out in a yelp of pain.

"You scoundrel…" Arthur scolded his little brother with a smile. "All these years have I taught you nothing at all? 'Why' you say? Obviously, it's because you're my precious little brothers."

The hand that had grabbed Jett's cheek now gently wrapped behind the younger brother's head and gently pressed their foreheads together. Arthur smiled while Jett cried but neither of them pushed the other away.

"Jett. Listen closely," Arthur spoke kindly and as his words came out almost silently, just whispering to his little brother alone and as he spoke Jett's eyes widened further. Arthur's mouth moved and a quiet secret was passed between the two of them, no one else on the battlefield heard the words they exchanged and to some extent, they were even lost on the scared nation that listened to them. When England finished speaking just to Jett, he spoke once more for everyone to hear.

"To think… I had to do this much to get through to you. Better not keep him waiting, he's been waiting far too long for you." Arthur smiled warmly, although he looked as though he had reached his limit. "This time .know that I truly am sorry. You're my precious brothers…try to remember moron."  
Arthur gave one last laugh before his eyes slid shut and he became quiet and still, the hand that gently ran through Jett's hair became limp and fell down by the Englishman's side.

"Arthur...?" Jett murmured quietly, expecting a snarky response from the other. Maybe he'd sit up and laugh at him for crying like an idiot or perhaps he'd call him stupid for falling for a dumb prank like this yeah, Jett waited for something like that to happen. But Arthur didn't move. Not an inch.

"Arthur!" Jett shook his brother just a little bit. "Damn it, you bastard, this isn't funny! I get it, alright…I-I'll stop, okay? I'll behave, I'll even do as I'm told…p-promise. So stop joking around."

Arthur didn't move, not an inch. He remained still and quiet despite Jett's pleas. Eventually Jett fell silent, his mind spinning as it went through too much information all at once. Part of him rationalised he should be glad that this happened but the rest of him couldn't seem to stop crying.

"Mate…?" Chris's voice raw sounded quietly from behind him, no one had dared to move just yet other than Christian and he was aching all over form the abuse he’d received before his brother’s appeared. Chris looked at his brother's exhausted eyes and the hands that still held Arthur tightly and he hesitated, he did not know what this type of grief-stricken Jett would do but at the same time he was relieved, because Jett was upset. Jett was sad that Arthur had been hurt this way, that meant more than anything one could begin to imagine to Chris.

"I wouldn't have told you." Jett said slowly to Chris. "About the good stuff, would I…? No, you only ever would have heard the bad things my brother did…" With a heavy sigh, Jett's eyes slid shut and just for a few seconds he remembered the good.

And there had been so _much_ good. The days Arthur spent with Jett and his big brothers had been the happiest in Jett's life. Everything after that seemed dark until he found Chris and Zea, but before all of that chaos and hatred, there was a very bright past he had tried not to look back on for so long.

"I didn't want to remember because it was blinding. So dazzlingly bright…" Jett chuckled spitefully. "It was too bright for my current eyes," Jett's body jerked just slightly as his own words registered something in his brain. Remembering the secret that just passed between he and England, Jett's eyes opened again. "I couldn't even see him with these useless eyes."

Jett's gaze lifted just slightly, staring out into the many mud covered bodies that stood around them, uncertainty silencing any word they may have spoken as they waited to see what happened. He saw Alfred behind Russia and Germany, he was restrained by both Matthew and Francis, the two struggling to stop the American from running to Arthur. Beyond them there were the soldiers, their own and the other nations' all simply standing in confusion, it was as though no one knew where they stood until the scene with England cleared.

But it wasn't the nations or the humans that Jett's eyes sought out. He wanted to confirm Arthur's whispered secret, he needed to know if it was true. His eyes raked back and forth three times over, seeking out a familiar face desperately –and he found it.  
A flash of a familiar smile caught his eye for just a second and his tear-filled eyes went wide. The sight was brief but it confirmed Arthur's words indefinitely. By the childish form, Jett could see the familiar shine of the feral fairy floating in between the hazy figure's open palm and Jett was not surprised by seeing her there, it simply made sense to him.  
As quickly as Jett saw the ghostly smile it was gone, leaving Jett to finally decide what happened now. But in his mind there was very little question for what came next.

"Take him," Jett murmured hoarsely, gesturing for Chris to take England from his arms. Clumsily, his little brother obeyed the order, carefully taking the eldest nation's limp body into his arms and freeing Jett from the duty. However, Christian was not faring much better than his older brother and his broken limbs struggled to keep Arthur guarded properly. Chris watched mutely as his brother picked himself up, rubbing the blood off on his shirt as he did. Jett glanced over to the muddy ground and saw his machete lying exactly where he had dropped it. Without a word, Jett went to retrieve it and with his familiar weapon back in his grasp Jett stood up straight and let out a very heavy sigh.

Chris did not understand what it was his brother was thinking exactly. He knew Jett was suffering and he knew that Jett's mind was quickly putting things back together, if they were put back together correctly or not Chris couldn't be sure. His brother might just become even more unhinged.

As Jett stood looking into the empty space in front of his eyes, the sharp sound of a bell tinkling sounded by his ear. Shifting his gaze to his shoulder, Jett saw the little fairy girl sitting there, looking up at him with those unnatural hues of hers and smiling.

"I have a request," Jett whispered to her quietly. "Please just save my skin one more time. Just once more and I'll do whatever you want in return." Pleading softly, Jett tried to convince the little feral creature to give him more help than he deserved.  
Still, she smiled and for once when she entered his open palm Jett did not receive a bite from her. Instead, she pressed her hands flat against his palm and drew a simple 'yes' into his dirty hand. Laughing quietly, Jett thanked the fairy gently before she vanished away. There was no guarantee his request would be granted, but Jett felt he'd done all he could for the moment and now there was only one last thing to be done.

"Chris!" Jett suddenly barked from where he stood in front of his little brother, back facing the other.

"Y-Yeah?" Chris yelped back, surprised by the force and control of his older brother's tone.

But what had Chris's entire body tense before a smile began to grow on his face it was not what his brother said but what Chris felt when Jett spoke to him. Very suddenly Chris felt the familiar sensation in his chest, just by his heart. Chris felt Jett come back home and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, they understood one another again. Chris almost began to cry out of joy when he realised how Jett's mind had realigned itself. To Chris it was the same as finally having a big brother return to him.

"Watch closely now," Jett ordered while tossing the machete carelessly in his hand, a smirk in his voice as he also felt the natural link between them realign itself. Jett never felt so foolish or relieved in his whole life there would be time to scold himself later, however, and for the present time he had something much more important to do. "Your big brother is going to be teaching an important lesson and there will be a quiz, so make sure you don't miss anything -"

By this point Ludwig seemed to have caught on to the change in the air. He released Ivan and stepped away from the Russia, hand returning to his gun as he glared back at the Australian that stood opposite him now. Ludwig knew they'd lost control and this time there was little chance of it returning. With things the way they were now, it was unlikely he or Russia were going to be let off lightly.

With that Jett took up arms against the side he'd originally been part of, after that the whole war fell apart very quickly. Turning back to glance over his shoulder, Jett grinned at his little brother and announced confidently.  
"- about becoming independent!"

  
…  
…  
…

Independence –End.


	13. Ending 1 - Depature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the first ending I wrote for this fic, neither ending is technically good or bad. However this is the gloomier of the two endings.

_Come Meet Me at the End._   
  
  


"So that's that."

Jett's eyes were heavy, which made the task of opening them to look at the speaker almost impossible. When Jett was just able to peek through his lashes, his eyes were assaulted with bright white light.

Slowly, he became aware that other than the blinding whiteness there was nothing much else. The gentle sound of water overlapping on a sandy bank and the distant echo of a kookaburra were the only sounds he could make out properly, everything else became white noise and even with his eyes open, he could see nothing besides the burning light.

"It's bright…" Groaning the words out softly, Jett moved to cover his eyes as he screwed them shut to try blocking out the unbearably bright light. To his left, Jett heard the speaker chuckle at this. "Turn the sun down…"

"I thought you liked the sun." The speaker murmured teasingly. "Or did you grow up to be a boring adult?"

Under his arms, Jett's eyes opened again. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died on his tongue. He couldn't choke out another word as that nostalgic voice registered in his mind, it had been so long since he'd last heard it…and once again, he ran out of things to say.

By his side the voice laughed brightly, obviously seeing his hesitation for what it was. "Hello there, mate. It's been a while."

"I-I…" Jett choked on his response and was quickly shushed by the other.

"Shush! This time just let me talk. I never got to talk much back then, not with you anyway. By the time I'd learnt English properly…well, we didn't see eye to eye, did we?" Jett bit his lip roughly under his arms as he felt the familiar stabbing pain return in his chest.

"Despite that, we had fun. Funny, how kids don't need words to understand one another…but you went and grew up without me, you bastard."

"I'm sorry…" Jett was finally able to utter the pathetic words, voice thick with the tears he was yet to shed. "I'm so sorry…"

"Oh shut up." The other laughed at him and Jett tensed as he felt the other's hands touching the arms he hid behind. "I don't want to hear that."

The soft tickle of hair brushed against Jett's arms as the other lent his head against Jett's defensive arms and Jett could all but feel the other's smile. "There's no place I'd rather be then here with you. So…when all is said and done I have a request. Come visit me again. Just once more and I'll be at ease."

"To say goodbye…?" Jett asked in a small voice. Goodbye was too sad and sounded far too lonely to him.

"Not on your life." The other laughed. "Just…'until next time'. So come see me, don't break your promise. If you do, that young one will give you hell."

Jett began to feel himself fading. His body vanishing bit by bit until he could no longer even feel the other's touch and as he disappeared from that white place Jett heard those parting words most clearly.

"I'll see you at the grave side. I'd like to see how it ends."  
  


…   
…   
…

 __  
End1 - Departure  
  


Jett stood in silence, eyes lingering on the ground under his feet, his gaze tracing the exquisite design of the tiled floor in favour of looking at the figure that stood opposite him. He could not return the older nation's look, knowing that he'd be caught by Allistor's piercing stare.

"How is he…?" It had been three hours now and they had received no word on England's condition. Breathing out a sigh filled with smoke, Scotland regarded his little brother with tired eyes. Looking at the usually unruly and hateful boy now, Scot could find little of that fire remaining inside his body and he could not decide if this was a relief or cause for more concern. It seemed the lad always had something up his sleeve to cause more strife.

"He's out cold." Scot said flatly before taking another drag from the cigarette that was beginning to reach the end of its life. "They should'a let you stay with 'im." Scot added bitterly and frowned when the smaller male visibly flinched. Jett had all but begged to be allowed to remain by England's side until his body 'warmed' – as he put it. However, he had been denied at every turn and yet he had not been locked away – perhaps there was still some hope to cling to. Until their brother was awake and speaking, it was uncertain exactly what would happen to the rebellious nation, of course that did not include the youngest Australian boy who had his own health to be concerned with.

"And your brothers?" Scot inquired in return and silently the Australian shook his head from side to side, indication he hadn't the foggiest to his brothers' conditions – though they both had a fairly good guess. It was quite alarming the injuries they had been brought in with. The middle brother hadn't been spared much mercy from Russia's pipe, not that anyone expected any better from such an attack.

"Have you slept?" Another silent response, a simple nod of the head. Scotland was becoming uneasy around the quiet boy, he seemed to be lost somewhere in the back of his murky green eyes. It was as though he'd simply stopped being there, receding somewhere into his own thoughts. Just when Scot thought he was going to get no response at all from the other, there was a murmured whisper from Jett.

"I dreamt of him." Jett's usually harsh and loud voice was meek, quiet and distant. Looking back at his brother Scot flinched, noticing how wide the other's eyes were as he stared blankly at the ground, it was as though he had stopped short at the edge of madness. _Again_.

Suddenly, Jett became animated. Standing straight Jett turned away sharply from the Scottish man and began to stalk past him, determination in his stride as though he suddenly had something very important to do.

"O-Oi!" Scot called in alarm, pushing off the wall he'd been leaning against and dropping his cigarette in the hurried movement. "Where are you off to, lad?"

For a brief second, Jett paused to glance back towards his confused brother with that same vacant green-eyed stare.

"To keep a promise." He finally muttered and left it at that, leaving Scotland behind as he walked away without another word.

Dropping his outstretched hand, a crease formed between Scotland's brows but he did nothing more. He could do nothing more. One way or another, this was something he had no understanding of, as someone on the outside looking in he could see nothing more than a haze of desperation and mistakes surrounding the whole situation. With a heavy sigh, Scot lit up another cigarette with shaky hands.

Flicking the lighter shut, Scot leisurely tilted his head against the door he stood next to. Inside that room was his own little brother – a little brother just as troublesome as Jett in his own right.

"Honestly…" Scot muttered, his voice thick as he choked back emotions he refused to be overwhelmed by. "Why can you never raise 'em right…?" Alistair gave a single bitter chuckle before the aching in his chest became too agonising to ignore.

Pressing a hand to his face Scot grit his teeth, biting down on the cigarette as he tried to push back a wave of grief. They were nations, they saw many things and they recognised faces that a human would never understand and Scotland recognised the face he'd last seen his Australian little brother wearing. Scot knew he'd never be seeing Jett's face again.

…   
…

The halls were dark and devoid of life. As Jett travelled down the lonely corridors, his eyes remained set on the path ahead of him, refusing to look away for even a second for fear he might lose his concentration and forget one of the many things he needed to do. First and foremost, he had to make a few quick visits. Nothing long and nothing too serious. He had to be quick and unnoticed as he made these stops.

As he passed through the dimly moonlit rooms, Jett took into consideration the time. By the look of it, he wouldn't have too long before the sun began to rise. Thankfully, the place he had to end up was not far from this estate. He'd be able to make it by morning and that would be the end of it. The thought brought little emotion into Jett when he considered it. Relief did register in the back of his mind at the thought of finally being able to rest, but there was a sinking sensation that crushed his chest – Jett opted to ignore that feeling.

It was late and most people were tucked into their beds, only those that were restless from the events that took place that evening and those charged with guarding the sleeping and injured were awake.

None of those people paid any attention to Jett as he swiftly walked down the halls of England's home. The occasional questioning glance or almost spoken word from a passing human didn't distract Jett and mercifully none of those humans tried to halt him. Due to the surprising amount of autonomy he retained, Jett was able to reach his first destination fairly quick.

Standing in front of the wooden door in complete silence, Jett's rigid body refused to move for the first few seconds, afraid that even the slightest twitch would stir those that remained safely behind the timber barricade. With a slow inhale and deep exhale, Jett was able to force his joints to unlock from their frozen state and gradually press his palm flat against the unlocked door. Silently, he asked the door not squeak or squeal as he gently guided it inwards and was rewarded with only the faintest of scraping against the floor as it opened only a few inches, just enough for Jett to peer in through the crack.

The room was lit faintly with only the open curtains to supply light from the slowly setting moon, but this alone was enough light to allow Jett his sight. Inside the guest room were two beds, one occupied and one empty. Lying motionless in the first bed was a young man, Christian. Jett could not see the extent of his brother's injuries due to the fact that Zea was obscuring him from where he sat on the same bed, keeping his sleeping brother company. New Zealand faced away from Jett, one hand on his big brother's still one and his other placed over his face – Toby must have been crying. Jett watched his two brothers for a while, only occasionally hearing the ragged intake of uneven breath from the youngest boy as he fought back tears.

Bandages caught Jett's eye, not just the ones piled up on the bedside table, but also a few that were wrapped around Chris' head and arms. Vaguely, Jett recalled the brutality of Ivan's attack, he remembered how his already horribly broken brother had held England at his request.   
_I wonder what he was doing_. Jett thought distantly. _Why did Russia go after my brother? Why did Christian enter the battlefield when he was already in such bad shape?_   
Jett had plenty of questions, but decided against looking for answers, he did not have the time to spend asking around. He barely had enough time to say anything and he could not speak a word to his brothers. He knew anything he said would worsen the situation, so he resolved himself to this method.

Noticing that Zea's breath had evened out and his arm had dropped from his face, Jett stole another quick glance and saw that Zea had settled down against the headboard of the bed, hand still intertwined with his big brother's as he fell asleep. Seeing the boys together like this relieved Jett, they fought and heaven knows they'll continue to bicker to the end, but they were close and he had no need to worry about either of them being lonely.

Even though it hurt, Jett smiled as he slid the door shut with the greatest of care to remain silent and not wake either boy. Once he heard the quiet click of the door latching and the sight of his brothers was again concealed behind the barrier, Jett rest his forehead against the door and with that bitter smile said the only thing he could think to say in parting.

"You're old enough now. I know you'll do well. Whatever you do from here, I'll be sure to support you both." Smiling, Jett pushed back from the door, leaving his palm against it for a moment longer before with one final word he turned away. "Good luck. Goodbye."

The first step away from the door hurt. It felt as though he was physically detaching himself from something, the tugging at his chest was sharp and almost enough to force Jett to turn around and go back. To stay with the two until they woke, but Jett forced himself to take the second step, further distancing himself from the door. With every step he took himself further away from it and his brothers, the horrible twisting feeling in his gut did not leave, however, it only grew more hollow with the knowledge that there was no way to go back anymore.

Inside the room he left behind one of the Australian brother's stirred, his eyes cracking open from where he laid in bed. His head cautiously turned to the side, facing the door he could have sworn had just been opened. "Brother…?" Chris muttered, voice dry and cracking. He could have sworn he'd heard Jett's voice.

Closing his eyes Jett walked as quickly as he could, wishing only to finish this horrible business – having no idea he had accidently awoken Christian. He allowed himself no tears as he walked through the moonlit corridors, he allowed himself no backwards glances as he headed towards the front door. A yellow light passed over Jett's closed eyes as he passed a door left slightly ajar. Stopping midstride his murky eyes gradually opened, turning towards the light. From the crack in the door, an orange and yellow light pooled into the hallway, it was accompanied with a gentle heat wave and in an instant Jett knew what he would find should he go inside.

Despite knowing he had to leave, Jett could not walk away. It was his last chance after all, and so turning away from his set path Jett walked over to the door, looking into the brightly lit room. Along the walls the light flickered unevenly, matching the pattern of the fire's dance. At the far end of the room sat a fireplace, ablaze with red flames and by the foot of that heat was a familiar looking beige pillow shape and it was shivering. Lying across the lounge by the fire was another familiar shape, covered with patches and bandages with the ever present scowl etched on his sleeping face was Germany. Finally, on the bed opposite the lounge there lay one more sleeping body, snuggled up under the blankets with little injury was a snoozing Italian.

"Someone's missing." Jett commented aloud as he looked in, all but able to feel the presence of the other nation standing behind him. Jett turned to look straight at Japan who stood in his usual formal way in front of the window opposite him. As the two looked at one another, Jett gave a tired smile.

"Hello, Japan." He greeted in a hushed voice. "You look unharmed…I'm glad."

For a short while Japan said nothing, merely looking at the Australian that was his ally. After the battle they had all returned to England's house, considering that once Australia had chosen its position the other nations had stopped fighting, there was no reason to fear murder in the middle of the night. In fact, England's home probably housed the entirety of a world meeting by this point in time. Finally, Japan turned to face out the window and spoke.

"You're leaving now?" Of course, Japan knew the answer already. Reading the mood had nothing to do with it, anyone could have seen the decision on the convict colony's face.

"Saying goodbye." Jett confirmed quietly, glancing back into the room that housed his old allies. "And fulfilling a promise – to you." Walking away from the warmth the room emitted, he came to stand directly in front of Japan and with that same empty smile, he held out his hand expectantly.

Wordlessly, Japan put his hand under Jett's knowing full well what he would be left with. Opening his pale hand, Jett dropped what looked like a few strips of cardboard onto Japan's palm. Japan took the fragile pieces of paper and held them protectively.

"The prize is given fair and square. They earned it." Jett murmured faintly. "Please do me a favour, Kiku – make sure they get it." With that, Jett gave one last smile and turned away from the Japanese man, continuing down the hall without looking back.

Left standing by the window, Kiku's gaze gradually dipped down to his hands, looking at the three plane tickets he'd been given. Closing his eyes, Kiku pocketed the three tickets and turned to look back out the window with his usual expressionless face. In the morning, when everyone finally would wake he knew that he'd be the one charged with giving Italy his ticket and the one that would first see the tears appear in Italy's eyes. Feli was foolish at times but this was the kind of something the Italian knew all too well. The loss of another nation, another friend.

"Australia-san…" Japan sighed quietly. "You've given me quite a troublesome task…" And ultimately, his blank expression became sad.

…   
…

A shivering Jett wrapped his arms around his torso, trying to keep himself warm as he trudged through the long grass. Above him the sky was beginning to glow and the moon was gradually vanishing behind the trees, giving way for the sun to begin breathing again. The breeze was gentle but it sliced like a knife through Jett, he felt it go right through him and sap out what was left of his warmth.

Trembling, Jett looked down at his scarred, bloodless hands as they shook feebly. As Jett stared at them he knew that there was little warmth left inside of him now and when his fingers touched his hand it was akin to touching smooth ice. Jett was aware he was freezing, not just cold but genuinely freezing.

"I'm running out of time…" Jett chided himself sternly as he resumed his determined slug through the uncut grass. "Before my body turns cold, I need to reach that place." Oh, but his body turned to ice so rapidly. Jett feared he may not reach the place atop the hill he had to be to keep his promise. That alone pushed Jett's legs to keep moving long after the feeling in them had bled away and kept him breathing when his insides turns to ice. Each shuddering breath let out a small puff of icy air, though the world around him was not cold enough for it. With the colour fading from his face and his lips dusted blue, it was a miracle that Jett was able to keep his eyes open for as long as he did. But finally he'd done it. Finally, his destination was in sight.

Stumbling the last few steps, Jett collapsed down to his knees in front of the old grave. It was just how he remembered it though the lettering had faded almost to the point he could no longer read it had he not committed it to memory. Reaching out with his unfeeling frozen fingers, he placed a hand on the grave and smiled with a small shiver.

"H-Hey, mate…" He greeted quietly with another small cloud of icy breath. "Sorry…I'm late."

And for the first time in decades, Jett got a response.

"You kept me waiting a while." Looking up, Jett saw the familiar smiling face of his friend. He sat atop his own grave just as Christian had the first day they met. When Jett looked at him, the native boy's smile grew. Jett could only stare, his tongue tied and unable to form a response. Seeing that Jett could say nothing, the boy chuckled quietly and slid off the grave.

"It's fine." Speaking gently, the boy sank down to his knees as his arms slowly wrapped around Jett, pulling him into a hug. Jett's eyes were still wide as he was held against the other's chest, feeling the dead boy's fingers ghosting through his hair soothingly. "You don't have to say anything." He promised in a kind whisper. "You've come to see me, you kept your promise and that is all that matters."

Jett felt his cold heart aching in his chest and in a childish manner he reached forward to grasp the boy's shirt tightly, crying silently as he clung to the other after such a long time. At this action the boy smiled and wrapped his arms more tightly around Jett's cold body, knowing that very soon he would vanish. It would not be long now before the colony that was Jett would disappear entirely.

Jett tried to speak, tried to choke out some words past his frozen throat but speaking was incredibly painful as his body turned to ice.

"It's okay." The past nation comforted gently. "For now stay right here, right here with me. We can stay here forever and play."

Behind them the sun was beginning to rise in the sky, bathing the world in an orange glow wherever its rays could reach. In the same instant, Jett and the native boy were unable to find solace in the warmth of the morning sun and instead remained colourless and cold, gradually even the green from Jett's eyes had faded to a light shade of grey. Still the native boy spoke to him, easing Jett into this form of death.

"I'll keep you right here in my arms away from anything that may hurt you, away from anything that makes you sad or angry. I'll keep you safe until the end and here you will stay until somehow your heart can warm again. Though, I'm sure you no longer care." Resting his chin atop Jett's head, the boy smiled in a bittersweet way. He was aware of what he was doing, he knew that this was nothing less than killing the male in his arms.

He gently squeezed the other. "You held me when I died…so, I'll return to favour." He promised quietly. "Until it's over."

"Jett!" The boy's head jerked up at the voice calling his friend's name. The shout came from a boy with a face like his own and the native boy smiled once again. Christian stood, panting heavily and barely able to stay on two feet as he stumbled pathetically towards the grave. Even from where the ghost boy sat, he could see freshly opened wounds weeping blood through their bandages and knew that the Australian was on his last legs but still Chris was shouting his big brother's name.

"I'm surprised." He spoke calmly. "I didn't think you'd make it this far." In his arms Jett stirred slightly, barely able to open his eyes but just able to make out Chris' desperate calls.

"What…?" Jett mumbled sleepily, struggling to remain conscious as he faded in the other's hold. "Chris?" Hazily, Jett was able to recognise his little brother's voice. Knowing that there was little that could be done for either Australian, the lingering ghost helped Jett to stand on dead legs, allowing the other to lean back against the tomb stone so he did not collapse.

"What…are you doing out of bed...?" Jett's voice could barely lift to a whisper and was almost lost to the wind. Had he tried to shout it would be no louder than a polite murmur but he was too far gone and too hollow to register the need to shout or be angry. He felt nothing and moved as if trapped in a dream, unable to pull himself from the sleepy haze.

"Jett, what are you doing?" Chris demanded, trying to get closer but only managing to trip and land on his hands and knees, knowing he could not force his abused body to stand Chris shouted from where he had fallen. "Get away from there!"

"Ah…no, this is good…" Jett decided as though he could not hear Chris properly. "I…want to tell you some things before I forget…." Jett smiled as he looked at his brother with colourless eyes that had once been green.

"Right…ah..I wanted to say something to you." Jett struggled for the words he wanted to say. Leaning down the ghost boy whispered something to Jett and suddenly the memory seemed to return to him and Jett smiled. "Right…right…goodbye, that's right."

"N-No," Chris choked, realising what his brother was saying. "Don't…y-you can't!"

"Listen….Listen." Jett murmured, complaining when Chris cut across him with his shouting. "I-It may be over for now, but don't be sad, alright…? Just keep smiling and being happy…and remember what I told you. This is just the beginning for you." Jett paused, needing to remember what it was he had told Christian.

"You're old enough now, okay…? Make the Australia we dreamed of, do better than me. Ah…what else…?" He was somewhat delirious, struggling to remember what he'd just thought and said. "Oh. I remember. They come first." Jett smiled, getting his bearings finally. "Look after them, love them like I taught you to. One heart, one body to bear a thousand voices. I won't be there to help you with the hard stuff anymore…so stay close to everyone else, be nice to Zea…be a good Australia. And…." Jet swayed. "…and…." Jett collapsed.

The ghost boy caught Jett and brought himself down to his knees to keep his faint friend from being hurt, though even if he had been he doubted his vanishing body could register pain anymore. Christian couldn't utter a single word, he was crying, his throat and chest too tight, making speech impossible as he watched his big brother literally disappear right before his eyes.

"D-Damn…" Jett laughed weakly. "How lame… Ah. That's right, one last thing." Jett murmured, just able to force his voice out. "I just have one more thing I have to ask you to do…"

Jett smiled as best he could as icy tears rolled down his face. "Please just…remember me. Please, just don't….don't forget about me, okay? Everyone else will…in time. But you, if you're the only one that remembers my name, that'll be enough for me. Yeah…that'll be enough." Jett murmured tiredly as his eyes slid shut.

"Brother!" Christian screamed again, seeing his brother begin to break apart into little sparks of white light. Knowing he was almost out of time, Chris pushed himself. His body wailed in protest, almost crying out as loudly as he did. Christian was able to force himself up to his feet and take the last few steps he had to in order to reach Jett. Hope glowed in his chest as his hand reached out for Jett's and then that hope shattered – in the exact same moment that Jett did.

For a fleeting second Christian's fingers grazed Jett's almost translucent hand, but the moment they made contact all of Jett's body broke apart into the glowing orbs that floated lazily into the air before fading away completely. There was nothing left of his brother except the feebly vanishing lights and the ghost boy that stood watching them dissipate.

The strength left Chris's legs and he fell to his knees, staring helplessly up at the lights that had once been a nation, that had once been his brother. The tears fell freely now, unable to stop the salty flow of tears Chris grit his teeth painfully and screamed into his hands. He screamed his brother's name along with wordless sounds of suffering and all the while the ghost boy with his face stood in front of him and watched.

"You are Australia now." He spoke quietly though there was no joy in the confirmation, it was simply what came with the death of the other.

" _You_ ," Chris snarled past his tears, scowling at the ghost boy. "This is all your fault!" He accused, his shouts strained by the choking thickness of his tears. The boy was silent, watching as grief played its course in the other. He did not bother to remind the other that they were one in the same.

"There was nothing I could have done. Perhaps, one day you will meet again when his heart warms. Until then.. I asked you back then why you wanted to exist. When some time has passed, I'll ask you again." He promised before beginning to fade, following after Jett.

It was hours before anybody found Christian, hours before they found the still crying nation on his knees in front of a grave nobody knew had existed. It was a fight to get Chris to leave the site and even more difficult to get a straight answer out of the grief-stricken nation. But subtle word traveled quickly and it wasn't long before everybody knew that the eldest down under boy had died.

…   
…   
…

_One Year Later._   
  


"Chris!" Australia jerked up at his name and immediately burst into laughter when he saw the faces of those sitting in the meeting room. "Contain your creature this minute!" Arthur shouted shrilly while leaping away from the snake that had made its home inside Christian's pocket before the meeting had begun.

It was just fat luck that the little guy had decided to wander about during the meeting and a majority of countries hadn't taken kindly to the uninvited guest. Chris swore that a woman had screamed and it turned out to be France of all people. Italy was all but standing on top of a very frustrated Germany, screaming about being too much of a virgin to die.

"Easy, mate." Christian spoke through his laughter. "He ain't a biter." Australia tried to reassure his big brother, but Arthur wasn't having jack of it.

"Christian!" He shouted furiously, causing the Aussie to all but split his sides with laughter. Despite being overcome with uncontrollable laughter, Chris was able to usher the snake back into his hands.

Even once the snake made itself comfortable over his shoulders, not many of the other nations seemed to relax and they were all staring at him.

"What?" Christian looked at them all in innocent puzzlement.

"Out!" Arthur snapped, thrusting his finger at the doors that lead to the balcony. "Snake. Out! You may come back in when you've gotten rid of it."

"Right, right." Christian chuckled standing from his seat, careful not to jostle the poor snake as he wandered off towards the balcony, planning to leave her there until the meeting ended. He didn't take into consideration the possibility that the snake might wander off or make its way into England's house.

As Australia took care of his friend, the nations inside the meeting room let out a collective sigh of relief and for some, frustration. "England," Germany spoke up in irritation. "Can't you stop him from bringing creatures to the meetings? Every time it's a new one and I don't think Italy can handle much more of this." To back up Germany's argument, Italy gave a feeble whimper and a quick nod.

Breathing an exhausted sigh, Arthur slumped back into his seat as he began rubbing his temples while he fought back a growing headache. "Believe me, Germany, if I could stop him I would. But the lad is impossible," His gaze drifted wearily to the dirt tracks that went to Christian's seat and he heaved another sigh. "Absolutely impossible.

New Zealand, can you…?" He tried but the blond shook his head firmly.

"I look after him enough as it is. I'm not his babysitter. Besides, even if he tried to leave them at home, they hide in his clothes." Another collective sigh was let out around the table, this time in annoyance.

"Don't worry about it!" America declared finally. "As the hero, I'll protect everyone!" That declaration was followed by his familiar obnoxiously loud laughter.

"Weren't you the one that jumped up on his seat a moment ago?" France mused mockingly, getting a cry of denial from the superpower.

"No way, dude! It…It was Canada!" He tried to shift the blame to his brother and pointed to his seat, only to find Russia sitting there with a pleasant smile. "W-Wha..? I swear he was right there!"

"I _am_!" Came the quiet cry from under Russia that absolutely nobody heard. Well, perhaps Russia heard but he acted as though he did not. The meeting was quickly dissolving into the usual clichés and arguments. The only person that did not fall into their usual niche was England. He did not leap up to argue with the frog or even reprimand America for his usual boisterous behaviour, instead he remained with his elbows on the table and head in his hands.

"England-san?" Japan noticed the nation seemed to be a little bit off. At the sound of his country name, Arthur's head jerked up sharply as though he was just waking up.

"Ah?" He looked around until his eyes landed on Japan and then with a shake of his head apologised. "Don't mind me, just tired." He assured the other while trying to refocus on the meeting around him, a task that proved almost impossible.

"Dude, you look like crap." America pitched in, drawing a bit more attention to Arthur, more than he wanted. "Dude…?" America frowned, noticing Arthur's hands covering his face and his shoulders shaking just slightly.

"It's nothing to concern yourself with." Arthur abruptly stood, a clumsy smile on his face. "I-I had better check on Australia." He announced finally, seeing as the young colonial country hadn't come back yet.

"Tell those two I want them in here for back up!" America added excitedly. Next to him France frowned, more in puzzlement than disapproval, though there was certainly no lacking of that either.

"Two? Honestly, America…have you forgotten how to count in your own language?" France mocked but noticed that Arthur had frozen midstride. Humming in confusion, France had a taunt lined up on his tongue for Arthur but it died in his throat the moment he noticed tears.

Standing like a statue with one hand on the back of his chair and the other on the meeting table, Arthur stared into space with a wide-eyed expression. Silentl tears budded at the corners of his eyes as he remained frozen in that position.

"Art-" Francis began to say something, but as quickly as he registered the shattered expression on his rival's face Arthur began to move again. Turning away from the table quickly to hide his face, Arthur snapped back at America.

"Think before you speak, you bloody moron!" He snapped a usual insult before storming off, but anyone could have caught the way his strained voice broke on the last word. No one spoke a word as Arthur walked out to the balcony door, slamming it shut after him.

"What did I do?" America complained, breaking the silence with his whining.

"Maybe you reminded him of Jett?" Canada piped up helpfully, this only causing a more drawn out silence between the countries gathered. For a few seemingly endless seconds no one spoke, but as usual it was America that opened his mouth first. However, when he spoke this time there was no arrogant shouting or even the trademark laughter, instead he just asked quietly.

"Who?"

The question hung in the air uncomfortably for a while, as though the name should bring some memory, but it simply…didn't and finally Canada spoke again.

"I…don't know." Canada said in a quiet voice.

…  
...

Outside the balcony door Arthur collapsed, his back hitting the outside wall of his home as he gradually allowed himself to slide into a sitting position, arms wrapped around his knees as the dignified nation fought back tears. As Arthur struggled to remain at least somewhat composed, the Australian nation still alive stood with his back to the balcony railing, wordlessly observing his big brother. Arthur's softly choked sobs reached Chris's ears, but he refused to break down and cry himself though he did not smile either.

"It's been about a year now, hasn't it?" Chris mused while turning to look at the rose gardens that Arthur so often tended to. They were blooming beautifully again, his brother was much better at the delicate care of plants than Chris ever was. Arthur's crying quieted slightly as he heard his little brother speak. "I suppose that's not very long really. One year…that's all it takes?" Chris's grip on the railing tightened as he angrily spit out the last words. "All it takes to forget he existed at all."

Chris kept his eyes on the garden, taking solace in the sight of his snake friend enjoying herself in between the rows of neatly kept flowers. In the back of his mind Chris wondered what Jett would have said to his behaviour, bringing a snake into the meeting with him. His big brother would have found it funny, but no doubt beat him for it. Smiling faintly at the thought, Chris's eyes slid shut and he let out a tired sigh.

"I suppose it won't be long for you now." He added coolly, though he did not turn to face the male he spoke to. "A few more months and eventually you'll forget, as well. Just another page in the text book and a forgotten time period."

"No…" Arthur replied quietly and Chris turned to face the older nation finally. He looked a mess with his fingers buried in his messy blonde hair while he gripped the strands tightly, it looked painful to Chris.

"I won't…I-I can't…" Christian's jaw set firmly as he took a few steps towards the distressed Englishman. Once he came to stand in front of his weeping elder brother, Chris looked down on him with a blank expression.

Ever since that day a year ago he felt less like smiling, less like playing around or being kind towards others. Of course he had still played the part, grinning brightly until all eyes were off him and he could wear his tired expression honestly. He still played with the children and held parties at the beach while doing everything he thought necessary of the Aussie spirit – the role of a good mate. However, his heart no longer seemed as into it, he now had the weight of conflict on his shoulders along with the loss of a brother. He had been left with responsibilities he didn't know how to immediately deal with.

Chris didn't want to be involved in America's wars, he didn't want to choose sides in the conflicts in the Middle East, not to mention he and Russia were only getting on worse and worse terms. Christian wanted none of it, but he was Australia now and there was no excuse to hide behind and as he looked down at England now…he held some contempt for him.

The brother left alive was not Jett, the one that came out in one piece was not the big brother that raised him and for that alone Chris felt angry. The thought of kicking England where he sat and shouting profanities at him crossed Chris's mind in a single hateful moment. He truly wanted to, he wanted to take out his grief and frustration on the other nation, but it only lasted a second and very quickly that red hot anger faded into the familiar murky haze of sadness. He knew that England could feel it, too, and he would continue to feel it until the memory of his little brother faded from his mind as it had for the other nations.

Chris lowered himself to his knees and reached towards England. Arthur flinched as if he had been expecting the beating that had crossed his little brother's mind, but instead he felt a gentle hand atop his head, ruffling his hair.

"I know, mate." Chris spoke soothingly while grabbing Arthur's hands away from his head, easing the other's grip from his hair so he did not pull it out at the roots. "I know… I can feel it, too, you know.

"My memory trying to fade away. It's okay, I get it." Arthur stared at his little brother and very quickly his green eyes filled with bitter tears when he saw the Australian smiling at him.

"Thank you. For remembering my big brother this long." Chris held his big brother's hands in his own warm ones and pulled the other to him, allowing Arthur to cry into his chest. Chris kept on smiling though, because it was the Australia that Jett had wanted him to be. The kind nation that smiled and remained carefree through everything.

"You know…" Chris began slowly. "I don't think he hated you in the end." Chris felt Arthur tense in his arms and continued gently. "I heard he stayed by your door most of the night, tried to go in with you but…well, he wasn't welcome."

Arthur was mortified, the night his little brother died and he had been so close? If he'd just been let in perhaps…no. There was no room or place for 'what if' thoughts, he had been plagued by them for so many years already. What if he was a better brother? What if he never sent him away? What if he had sought him out earlier? What if, what if, what if! Arthur gripped Chris's shirt tightly as the usual guilty thoughts circled around in his head.

"Besides, he saved you." Chris added nonchalantly. This time it was no surprise to Arthur. He'd heard it from New Zealand before his memory had started to fade along with America and Canada's. That night on the battlefield when the world had turned dark for Arthur and Jett had turned on his former allies there had been something else at play. Toby had described his big brother as delirious, speaking to someone that was not there, asking for a favour. Toby recounted the actions of his older brother, holding out his hand and laughing when something no one else could hear responded.

It took some time to gather other pieces of information and, nauseatingly, the most of it came from Germany during the time he was investigated by England personally. Ludwig begrudgingly told Arthur – after a lot of _encouragement_ – that Jett would occasionally talk to people only he could see and had once told Ludwig that he saw fairies and that they would help him from time to time. Finally, Arthur's assumptions were confirmed by a furious Christian, who – in one of his fits of rage during the weeks after Jett's death – shouted at Arthur that he owed his life to Jett and his fairies.

It had not taken long after that to gain the whole story from some of his magical friends. One particular fairy that was far too monstrous for Arthur's liking, had told him that she had been the one to save his skin with a small bit of help from the others. Jett had asked for one last favour from her, which had simply been to keep Arthur's heart beating until he could be treated properly and she had done just that. For days after this news was given to Arthur he had remained in his room, mostly wrapped in the thick blankets of his bed with wide eyes as he stared at the ceiling. Even after his brother left, he was still causing confusion for Arthur.

He wanted to kill Arthur, but in the end he had saved him. He never wanted to see Arthur again and yet he had stood outside of his door, shouting to be let in. For the rather logical Englishman this caused an endless amount of confusion which only fueled the pain of losing the convict colony. However, that pain had already begun to turn foggy, sometimes Arthur felt himself slipping. Occasionally, he'd forget why it was he felt so gloomy or what the name of his little brother was and at his lowest moments Arthur forgot his little brother's face entirely. Those were the scariest moments for Arthur.

That was not the worst thing about the situation. It had hit Arthur the hardest one day when he was speaking with America. He'd thrown out Jett's name while growling at Alfred, intending to use it to make Alfred see the importance of what he was saying and, to his horror, Alfred had laughed at him and said 'Dude, Australia's name is Chris. What are you forgetting our names now?' Arthur had simply…stared. That had been a little under six months ago and after that moment he realised traces of his little brother's existence were vanishing. His name went first for most of the other nations, then his personality faded from mind leaving only a nameless face and soon even that was gone. All in the space of a year he had effectively been erased from their minds and his own remaining impact was the information stored in history books on the early days of convict Australia and none of them held Jett's name.

Canada and America had lasted longer than most of the others seeing as they were family. Netherlands was surprisingly resilient and both he and New Zealand seemed to actively work to keep the other reminded but even they were beginning the slip. For Netherlands it was now only a face and although New Zealand was able to recall his brother's face and name he would occasionally slip just as Arthur did and forget, as well. In those moments the fair nation became violent, screaming and breaking things until the memory returned or someone restrained him. When Arthur asked how he knew he had forgotten the young nation would tell him it was a cold sensation, the knowledge he had forgotten something important and had to remember. Arthur knew the feeling and neither knew how much longer New Zealand's fits of rage would keep the memory from fading.

As for the rest of the world there seemed to be nothing left in their memory. Germany who had been so closely involved with Jett was the last of the 'outsiders' to forget. Arthur remembered that day quite well. He had gone to see Ludwig and find our if he could get one last piece of information from him – regarding Jett's 'heart' which had apparently not been with him when he left. He'd been straight to the point with Germany, demanding it while standing in the doorway – he had no doubt in his mind that Ludwig had taken it, though he hadn't the foggiest why the other would do such a thing.

Ludwig had simply looked at him with a faint scowl and a puzzled expression before speaking the familiar words. "I'm sorry, but who is that?" Arthur was getting used to people asking that when Jett was mentioned, but hearing it from Germany had almost driven him to the edge.

He had shouted profanities in the most ungentlemanly fashion at the other nation, trying to hit him whereever he could. It had taken both the frog and Alfred to pull him away, but thankfully Germany took it with a fairly level head and after some reassurance that Arthur was simply drunk the other let it go with no ill will. It helped that Arthur had started crying, giving weight to the drunken theory.

Pretty soon it was just Arthur alone with his grief and guilt along with the ever present fear of also losing his memories of the other. Christian was correct, it would not be long now. He had held out the longest of all and pretty soon his mind would simply fail him. It was scary and frustrating, it caused Arthur to wake up at night in a frantic frenzy.

But Arthur had a secret.

"I can remember." He whispered firmly to Chris who had been a good sport and let his older brother cling to him like a child. "Because I kept it…"

"Kept what?" Christian was genuinely taken off guard by the finality of his brother's tone and words. He spoke with a confidence he had not heard in a while. Without another word, Arthur dug into his coat pocket and pulled free a carefully folded piece of paper and held it out to Chris.

Cautiously, Chris reached forward to take the paper and found it was smooth. "A photo?" He questioned but Arthur simply watched him, waiting for him to look and so he unfolded the photo delicately. For a second his eyes widened, but very quickly his expression softened into a sad smile.

The photo in his hands was a family photo in a sense. Jett, Alfred and Mattie were curled up sound asleep with Arthur on a lounge, a blanket carelessly tossed over them. The four of them looked much younger and the photo was obviously very old.

"Crikey," Chris chuckled softly. "Old frog face certainly can take a pretty picture." Arthur was smiling slightly as he looked at the photo.

"I took it from Alfred's storage room." He admitted. "Around the time Germany had Jett, it was the last childhood photo with Jett in it…so, I thought I would keep it. I was sure Alfred wouldn't notice and I've been keeping it close. It helps. You know…" He gently tapped his temple. "When the memory fades."

With care not to damage the photo, Chris folded it back in two and handed it to Arthur. "Keep it close then." He advised. "Maybe…maybe it'll help for a long time." Taking the photo, Arthur's expression fell.

"But it won't be enough." He said dejectedly. "Because we'll never see him again and I can never tell him the things I wanted to..."

"He knows." Chris said firmly. "And…It's okay because I'll never forget. I promised." Chris smiled brightly. "I will never forget anything ever again. I've learnt my lesson."

Arthur looked up at the smiling nation and his eyes widened in understanding. "You… Don't tell me you remember…?"

"That's right." Chris's grin brightened as he jerked his thumb back against his chest. "I'm not hiding anything anymore. I remember everything from back then. Looks like we became a family, after all. No hard feelings, great British Empire." Chris held his hand out to Arthur.

"Come on. It's time to go. I didn't join with you again to drag my feet, I have to make the Australia Jett and I dreamed of back then. Let's get moving and when it's time, I'll meet up with big brother again. I'm sure, so let's just keep on smiling and go our way."

Choking back his tears again Arthur nodded as he smiled, it hurt but at the same time he was proud. He knew that Jett would have been proud of Chris if he was there and so Arthur felt the same. "Right. Let's go." He agreed, taking Chris's hand and getting to his feet, he couldn't sit there and cry forever. "This time we'll go together."

…   
…  
...

"Do ya think they're coming back?" America asked tiredly. Australia and England had been gone for some time now and they didn't seem to be coming back in any time soon. To make things all the more difficult, they'd lost some people from the meeting.

Almost immediately after the awkward silence that Canada's suggestion had caused a few members had left the meeting early. Most notably, Germany had left uncharacteristically in an abrupt and unprofessional manner. He had stood suddenly, startling the Italian sitting next to him as he announced he had to leave, something about his head hurting. After he had stormed out of the room, Russia had stood next and walked the same way in silence. When America called some rude question with the word 'commie' attached on the end, the Russian had stopped briefly and with his usual icy smile announced he was bored. That was all he gave them before vanishing out the same door as Germany.

They'd lost two very quickly and then at the opposite end of the table New Zealand said he had to call Netherlands, to check something. He wouldn't say what but he looked pale, almost sick and so no one stopped him from leaving to take the call. Italy had started to cry but no one knew why, not even Feli himself as he stumbled over his apologises but he couldn't stop the tears. He did manage to spit something out about finding a plane ticket in his pocket that made him need to cry. Finally, there was Japan who merely stood with a calm demeanour and said he would take Feliciano outside until he calmed down. However, he also left the remaining countries with a somewhat eerie explanation.

"It's just a sad memory." He told America calmly. "It will pass."

"Dude, memories aren't, like…ah, what do ya call them? Colds? Yeah, that's right. You can't catch a bad memory." America had argued, Japan simply smiled and shook his head.

"No, but you can remind people of them. Please excuse us," With that he'd lead Italy away, trying to calm the other as he did. That left only a few nations around the table, but at the very least Canada

could breathe without Russia sitting on him.

"Wasn't that weird? Is anyone else creeped out by that?" America drawled as he lazily drew on the table. He was worried he'd caught the bad memory, as well. He didn't feel particularly cheery and even the thought of a hamburger only made him smile a little.

"Yeah…" Canada agreed quietly. "I wonder if they're all alright?"

"Bro," Alfred said with a strangely sullen voice.

"Y-Yeah, Alfred?" Canada looked surprised that his brother was speaking directly to him, surprised he could be seen at all.

"Sorry for forgetting you." Canada felt his heart swell but not because he thought he had been noticed and apologised to – but because he was sorry to.

…  
…  
…

_The voice._

  
Russia had not left the building, his legs had not been able to carry him that far. Instead, he'd taken refuge in one of the rooms on the top floor. Most the doors were locked and he had tried most all of them to, he had genuinely been surprised when one opened to him and was relieved he would not need to break one down. But as soon as he stepped into the room, Ivan was taken aback to find it to be a child's room.

Closing the door behind him, Ivan walked into the old room, noting the dust that floated lazily in the air and the thick layer that had formed over the long forgotten toys and other unused furniture. His quiet footsteps echoed back to him in the eerie stillness of the room and the effect of walking into another time period was created. Everything was old and obviously once loved but long forgotten by somebody.

"I wonder why England has a child's room." Ivan murmured to himself with a smile ever present. "Maybe he's a pervert?" Chuckling at the insulting idea, Ivan began to investigate the room a little further.

He'd come in here to hide, but now his childish curiosity had him searching for the reason as to why England would keep such a room unlocked but obviously unused. In truth, Ivan highly doubted that there were any sick intentions behind the ownership of this room. Though, there was a lingering sensation in the air that caught Ivan's interest, it almost felt warm, almost.

Picking up a limp stuffed bear Ivan frowned, watching the layer of dust fall from the fur of the bear and onto the ground. Giving it a small shake Ivan found that it almost snowed the substance and immediately stopped shaking it, not wanting to be reminded of the cold snow it resembled. Turning over the once loved toy, Ivan idly looked for anything of interest and was rewarded when he found a tag with a crudely drawn word on it.

"Jett," Speaking the word aloud, Ivan's smile dropped. "That was what little Matvey said before, da…?" For all his pretending Russia was very aware of the fact he was sitting on the poor Canadian and relished in the fact no one else noticed and that the smaller male could not speak up enough to get him off.

Looking at the childish lettering of the name, Ivan's brows furrowed in frustration as a familiar pinching feeling returned in his skull. Taking a small step back, Ivan's grip on the bear failed and he dropped the toy unceremoniously to the ground, his hands swiftly moving to his head, gripping the sides tightly as he willed the faint pounding away. It was the same feeling he had fled from within the meeting room. After Canada had said the name aloud the pain had returned and in an effort to hide his discomfort from the other nations, Russia had fled to this room only to have the pain follow him.

_"Oi, Ivan!"_

Ivan jumped, eyes going wide behind his hands as he heard a voice echoing inside his brain. He knew the harsh tone from somewhere and from time to time it would appear in his mind and mock him, it had been going on for some months now and no matter what Ivan did the voice would appear seemingly triggered by meaningless causes. A strange stone found in Ivan's room one night, a fireplace with a choking blaze and even at times, other nation's faces – most often when he caught the glare of the young Australian boy.   
"I-Ivan is not crazy." Russia insisted, knowing anyone that saw him in this state would think he was completely mad.

Ivan turned to look at the toy he had just picked up and his gaze sharpened. It was the toy's fault, it was responsible for triggering the voice. Again, Ivan knew anyone who saw him blaming a stuffed toy for the voice inside his head would make him seem like a mad man but he knew he was right and so, he withdrew a knife from within his coat and stalked towards the toy. Picking up the small fragile item in his large hand Ivan brought it up and pull the knife back, figuring one slash would bring the toy's head off.

His hands were shaking slightly as his breathing became erratic, determined to erase the voice that accompanied the searing pain behind his eyes. When he slashed down though, his shaking hands failed him and instead of the toy he caught his own hand, slashing open his cold skin and spilling bright red blood onto the blade and the toy. Hissing in pain, Russia grabbed his hand and allowed the toy to drop to the floor.

 _"Fruit loop…"_ That same voice murmured to Ivan and this time a gentle pressure rest between his eyes like someone had tapped their knuckle against his head. _"Be a little more careful next time, alright?"_

Stumbling backwards, Ivan lost his footing and fell onto the dusty floor, trying to escape the phantom touch as the pounding in his head grew more unbearable.

"Stop!" Ivan finally caved in and shouted, hands grabbing his head as he screamed at the unknown voice that plagued him. "Go away!" Blood stained his fair hair and face, but he paid it no attention as he waited for a response from the voice. There was none. Curling tightly in on himself, Russia trembled. He wasn't crazy, he wasn't but he couldn't stop the voices from speaking to him and the pain inside his skull would not recede, if anything it become more unbearable.

And as he sat there shaking in the corner of a child's room, Ivan became aware of something strange. He was not cold. Looking up slowly Ivan waited for the sudden return of the usual icy sensation that so often turned him numb, but he was met with only another gentle wave of warmth that travelled to his core. Confused and uncertain, Ivan looked around the room like he was expecting the feeling to shatter in an instant like an already forgotten dream.

"Warm…" Ivan murmured curiously. "When was the last time Ivan was this warm…?"

The pain returned, beating on the insides of his skull, demanding to be let out and as Ivan's hands snapped up to clutch the area, the voice returned in his ear.

 _"I'm not bloody scared of some icy bastard of a country!"_ The voice declared angrily and for just a second, Ivan swore there was a face attached to those words.

"But everyone is scared of Ivan…" He whispered a pathetic reply. Knowing that now he was replying to a voice that only said a few select things. It seemed to be on repeat whenever it spoke, the same words and tone over and over again as though derived from some sort of recording in Ivan's head.

 _"You giant fucking idiot. Don't force your problems onto me! If you're lonely, make your own friends or some shit."_ The voice seemed to respond in frustration. _"Wear an actual smile for god's sake."_

"No one is Ivan's friend." Russia muttered, his eyes slowly creeping open. He knew that voice, he swore he remembered it from somewhere. Some place warm he had once been.

 _"Tell you what…knock off your creepy ass shit and I'll…be your friend."_ The voice offered, sounding embarrassed as it spoke. Ivan's words dried up and for a brief moment the disjointed conversation seemed to come to an end when the voice left with one last parting promise. _"It's a deal then…tickets for summer to my place."_

The voice declared in the back of his head and slowly, driven by instinct Russia's hand slipped into his coat pocket where he felt something fragile and small under his large hands. Pulling it free, Ivan found himself staring at a plane ticket…to Australia.

Faintly, Ivan retained the memory of Japan having given him this ticket almost a year ago. He also remembered that upon receiving it he had gone into an almost uncontrollable rage, it had certainly frightened the other nations present. Still, he could no longer remember why it had upset him so much at the time and more importantly, why it still nestled safely inside his coat. It should have been used or discarded by now and yet somehow it remained on his person without his knowledge – or at the very least, without his memory.

"Why did Japan give this to Russia?" Ivan murmured quietly with the voice's earlier words still ringing in his ears. Ivan's eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on this, forcefully trying to remember what the ticket had meant to him and who the person known as 'Jett' had been.

"What do you want?!" Ivan demanded, the voice never seemed to reply to him directly – it could not because it only had a set few phrases to say from its broken record in Ivan's memories.

However, in this instance it had the perfect phrase to quietly whisper in response.   
_"Come to my place for Christmas. Please, Ivan."_

Ivan's eyes shot open as a floodgate opened within his mind. He saw someone smiling at him when those words were said, like a hazy memory replaying in his head. Slowly, almost as if he was scared, Ivan's eyes drifted to the stuffed toy left abandoned on the floor with a few drops of his blood on its fur. His violet hues caught sight of that scribbled name again and the face suddenly had a name attached.

"Jett…" Ivan's chest ached, as though he was remembering something painful with the name.

The memories were cracked at the edges, fuzzy behind a sheet of frost in Ivan's eyes and the face of the other person that occupied the memories was blurred. Focusing, Ivan willed the memories to clear, for the icy sheen to clear and reveal what it was that was hidden underneath. They came back slowly at first. A visit to Germany's house in the middle of the night on a whim, staying by someone's bedside, telling his story and most vibrantly, sitting by a fireplace talking to another person happily and the warmth that he had felt at that time. Ivan's eyes opened again as finally, like a sudden splash of cold water the memories washed over him. Clutching the plane ticket tightly, Ivan's violet hues widened and seemed to shake as he stared in horror.

"Ivan remembers. Ivan remembers." He muttered feverishly, his large hands cupping the single strand of fragile paper protectively to his chest as the pain in the back of his head receded, and for a moment, the memories became clear.

He could see it clearly in his mind, as though he'd never forgotten at all. He saw the short time he'd spent with what he considered to be a fire. Jett smiled in his memory at him, he shouted and blushed and cried, but in the end it was his smile that he remembered most vividly and the warmth that smile harboured. Ivan relished in the memories though they hurt to think about because Russia was no fool, he knew that soon they'd fade again. It was only a matter of time, seconds, minutes, hours…it could even take days, but inevitably they would fade and then Ivan would be forced to forget once more.

But for now he remembered and for now that was the most painful thing in the world to Ivan, and so he sat in the dark room that he now knew belonged to Jett in childhood and listened to the memory of his discussions with Jett.

_"I don't plan on dying tonight, Ivan."_

"Liar…" Ivan chuckled bitterly. "Little Australia…is such a bad liar. You left. Just like everybody else!" Ivan became frantic as his voice escalated to a shout. "Was it because Ivan is too cold? Or, or maybe it was because Ivan tried to kill the little brat? Da? Da?!" Ivan knew he was being unreasonable but he couldn't stop. His breath came out in short painful bursts as he struggled to remain in one piece.

"Ah! I-Ivan gets it now! All this time you hated Ivan, didn't you?" Ivan accused with a manic laugh. "That's why you went and died, to punish Ivan? Right?" His frantic laughter slowly broke away into a pathetic sobbing sound as he lost the last of his control. "Why…why…? Even after I tried so hard…why does everyone abandon me? Why am I so hated..?"

With his cupped hands pressed to his head, holding onto the last piece of Jett that he owned, Russia realised something was burning him. Hot lines ran down his cheeks, scalding his icy flesh and leaving a lingering glow where they touched. It took the Russian a while to realise that he was crying.

_"All I meant was…I wouldn't mind if tonight was it. I'm just happy that I was here with some friends, even if it was only for a little while."_

Jerking slightly Ivan's eyes opened as his mental image of the unruly Australian boy smiled sheepishly looking at him with surprisingly kind eyes. Ivan felt as though he were frozen in place, hearing those words almost sounded as though the Australian had truly thought of him as a friend. Then the fake did something strange, the version of Jett that Ivan had conjured up broke away from the usual repeated lines and said something he'd never heard before.

Looking away from Ivan the image of Jett looked around his room as though he was looking over his childhood with a distant smile _. "The truth is, I've never been happier than I was then. I'm happy we became friends."_ Jett said casually before turning back to look at Ivan with a bright smile. _"I'm glad, you finally have an honest face."_

Ivan touched the burning tears that clung to his eyes and refused to stop. He vaguely remembered looking at Jett with envy that he could cry so honestly, but now that Ivan had his own tears to shed he wanted it to stop. It hurt. With a small content sigh, the image of Jett knelt down in front of Ivan and stretched a hand out towards him. Ivan resisted, flinching back when he felt the familiar tap against his forehead.

 _"Now I just hope you smile honestly, too."_ With that the image got back up and turned away from Ivan.

"W-Wait!" Ivan reached out for the conjured image of the dead nation. He did not care if he was mad, Ivan was overcome with the fear of forgetting and should his imaginary version of Jett vanish, the memories might just go with them. "Don't go."

For a moment the fake paused before turning back to grin at Ivan encouragingly _. "It's just…'until next time'. So come see me. I left you with the ticket, after all."_ The image began to become fragmented as his memories broke apart, taking the apparition with them.   
_"See you in the summertime_." With that the Jett creation broke apart completely, leaving Ivan reaching for empty space.

Slowly, Ivan's arm dropped to his side limply and there in the middle of the dusty room he remained. The tears didn't stop and Ivan barely had to blink to send more of the heavy buds rolling down his cheeks. To Ivan, Jett had not meant the world, Ivan did not have that kind of mind but he was – in some sense – a way of feeling hope. Someone as abandoned and scorned as he was that still retained warmth and was able to smile honestly had meant a great deal to Ivan, and the hope of keeping that warmth alive to keep him warm had meant more to the Russian than most might have guessed. But without that, he was left cold and alone once again.

Well…not entirely. Opening up his hand, Ivan stared down at the ticket and even as his memories began to submit to the murky waters and the icy sheen, he was just able to retain the knowledge that he had to go to the sunburnt country in the summertime. The face of the one who had promised Ivan the ticket faded, as did the name that went with that person and everything else surrounding Jett's existence. It was all stolen by the cold, all but one thing. In the tiny ticket that Ivan slowly slipped back into his coat pocket, the pocket closest to his heart, there was warmth. Barely noticeable but still very real, the small scrap of paper radiated a gentle heat that stopped Ivan's heart from aching quite so badly.

Even when Jett and all that came with the name was forgotten, Ivan was able to retain just that and nothing more. "Come see me in the summer." Ivan murmured the words to himself quietly. Who had spoken them he was no longer sure and why it was they made his chest ache in a bittersweet pain he couldn't definitely say, but once he spoke the words Ivan smiled.

Gathering himself up off the floor, wiping away tears he didn't realise the reason behind, the Russian pressed a hand over his coat where the hidden pocket and ticket were. Ivan smiled, a small and barely noticeable smile, but at the very least a genuine one.

Leaving the unknown child's room Ivan returned to his usual cold, somewhat detached world. Knowing that he would be cold as always. That was until the summertime where he'd be warm again.  
  


…  
…  
…

 _The Body_  
  
  


"Gott dammit." Germany cursed as he fled the meeting room. He knew it was unprofessional, he knew he should have simply continued on as though nothing had bothered him but he could not. It had been weeks since anyone had set off the others, but it was England and Canada's behaviour that had done the trick and this time Ludwig could not idly sit by and get through it.

The throbbing behind his eyes was almost crippling and it didn't ease off during his trip home, he was still desperately trying to will it away when he stumbled through the front door of his house. Jerking his tie off, Ludwig quickly tried to discard the stiff formal attire he wore to the meeting, feeling constricted by the material and all the while the headache pounded against his brain.

No sooner than he set foot in the door, Prussia was already shouting something.

"Oi, West!" Prussia's voice called from the kitchen, the sound of laughter in his tone as he shouted to the younger brother. "Come and give me a hand in here!"

Groaning quietly, Ludwig rubbed his temples. It wasn't that he was annoyed with Gilbert so much as the headache was making him irritable. Not to mention he'd heard that phrase on repeat for roughly a year now. Actually, at first Prussia seemed to be angry at him about something but that faded quickly and Ludwig never did find out what had pissed off the albino or why it was that his red eyes were bloodshot most nights.

For the longest time Gilbert had flat out refused to talk to his little brother and avoided him most of the time, to make things worse Gilbert had barricaded himself in his room with copious amounts of alcohol. Whenever approached about this by Ludwig or urged to leave his room, the albino would scream profanities at the younger and break some of the bottles, though he always left one sitting next to him. Ludwig had noticed the bottle first when Gilbert ventured out of his cave to get a few more boxes of the stuff despite having one left.

At first he had thought nothing of it, but when Gilbert came out twice more to get more booze and the bottle remained untouched, Ludwig had dared to ask. Perhaps, Gilbert had a blind spot to it? The look he had received from those red eyes was so spiteful and harsh that even Ludwig had flinched back from his big brother and all he got as a reason was an angry growled response.

"I'm saving it for a mate!" With that Gilbert had slammed the door on Ludwig again, and despite the fact that almost a year later the bottle remained in its designated spot and Gilbert had returned to normal, Ludwig still never asked about it and absolutely would not touch it for fear of setting his brother off. The only reason that Ludwig paid the bottle any mind was the strange way in which Gilbert behaved whenever he saw it. As though he was seeing it for the first time, his brother would stare in shock and would stand there for a while, seemingly confused. If Ludwig spoke it would break the spell and if not it would eventually break itself, once Gilbert was out of whatever trance he became stuck in when seeing the bottle he'd usually walk into his room as though nothing had happened and on occasion he might mutter something to himself. Only once had Ludwig caught what his brother would say.

"Oh…almost forgot." Gilbert seemed to smile when he said it, but his tone was so off that Ludwig genuinely did not know what was going through the other's head. Aside from this usual behaviour, Ludwig found nothing else to really be wrong in their day-to-day routine, whatever grievance Gilbert had with him was long forgotten and Ludwig didn't care to ask about it.

"What is it?" Ludwig finally called back, all for show of course as he knew exactly what it would be, still he played along.

"I think that there's another leak." Gilbert called back and Ludwig's frown deepened, not a great start to an already frustrating evening.

"Again?" Ludwig grumbled, more to himself than anything else. With a small sigh, Ludwig hung his coat on the rack by the door and headed for the kitchen. This was becoming all too familiar for him. A whole year of leaks, cracks in the walls and other maintenance problems. According to England, there had been a gas explosion in his basement and it had taken the lower half of the house with it.

It had already been cleaned up a fair bit when Ludwig and Gilbert started work on it and for a while it all seemed to be going well. There was only one problem. _Gilbert_ was working on it.   
He was either still fuming at Ludwig while building or completely careless, so while they'd restored the walls and most of the foundation to stop water and wind getting into the house there were countless smaller problems.

Those problems Gilbert had been sure he could fix easily and gradually he'd managed to do more damage to the house than repair. And thus leaky pipes, poor paint jobs and cracks in the wall were now a daily part of Ludwig's life. He swore never to let Gilbert do work on the house – at this rate, he might as well have just blown up the basement himself for all the good he did.

Entering the kitchen, Ludwig found that the leak was a little more extreme than his brother's casual tone let on. It was almost flooding the tiled floor and Ludwig could feel the pressure on his head growing, his headache was not going to be leaving him until this was done. Rolling up his sleeves, Ludwig tossed a short glare at a sheepishly smiling Gilbert before getting to work and keeping him well away from giving _any_ help.

The work was dirty and physically trying for Ludwig, but at the same time he took some solace in the activity. It wasn't terribly complicated and all he had to do was right a simple wrong. There was no grey area as there so often was in politics and everyday life, so Ludwig felt at ease as he worked, allowing his mind to wander slightly. The slight throbbing between Ludwig's eyes remained and he considered taking a painkiller to try and fix it. He'd been taking a lot of those as of late.

Whenever something would set off the terrible aching in his head, Ludwig would simply take a pill but today he had none with him at the meeting and he simply couldn't stand being there anymore. He'd thought of talking to a doctor about this, but there wasn't much a human doctor could do for such problems and there was no obvious reason as to why this should be happening. Strangely enough, he'd gone to England in the hopes he may have a solution, even one of his strange concoctions he called potions may have done it.

Ludwig had planned on doing that early on when the strange pains appeared. He'd gotten prepared to go out and ask Arthur, but he'd never actually gone through with the idea. The idea of speaking to Arthur was oddly unappealing recently. It was probably because of the last time they'd interacted on a social level. Arthur had absolutely lost it, he'd screamed every English word under the sun and even tried some German ones while trying to land some punches and kicks on a very confused Ludwig.

"All I did was ask who Jett was," Ludwig murmured to himself, recalling the event. However, the moment the sentence passed his lips the pain grew in intensity and Ludwig dropped the spanner he'd been working with in alarm. While Ludwig was no stranger to pain, he had not expected his own body to turn on him so viciously. Discarding his work, Ludwig stumbled away from the kitchen and towards his room, to the bathroom where he knew the strongest of the painkillers would be.

"West?" Prussia called as he blundered past him as quickly as his unsteady legs could carry him. "Yo, Luddy, you alright?" Prussia still tried to get an answer out of the other, but got only a grunt in response. "You didn't fix the kitchen!" He shouted desperately but was still ignored. When Ludwig vanished upstairs to his room, Prussia turned his sights on the kitchen and grinned. "Very well, the awesome me will handle it." Needless to say their kitchen was now doomed.

Upstairs, Ludwig barely made it to his room, in fact he only got as far as the bed before collapsing. Growling his frustrations, Ludwig's sharp gaze lingered on the door to his bathroom and gritting his teeth, the German forced himself back onto shaky legs and slowly inched towards his end goal. It was a long and gruelling process, but eventually he found himself clinging to the bathroom door and the vanity was within reach. In one last ditch effort, Ludwig lunged for the vanity, his hands wrapping around the edges and thankfully holding him upright so he did not fall and bang his head on the smooth surface of the sink.

Ludwig panted as he took in a few grateful gulps of air and stared into the bowl of the sink. He got a faint sense of déjà vu, looking down at his hands that tightly grasped the white vanity before he flinched. He swore he'd done this before and while he knew that déjà vu was not uncommon, he got it far too strongly and frequently – and most disturbingly, always with his headaches. All of this he could handle if it were not for one last thing.

Ludwig felt it before he saw it, a strange pressure against his back as though someone was touching him. Frantically, Ludwig's eyes widened and his body began to quake uncontrollably but he dared not turn to look and see what was touching him. He knew exactly what he'd see if he did. Ludwig was a reasonable man by all means and he put little stock in the supernatural and often scolded Arthur for trying to use it as a genuine military tactic. However, for a while now Ludwig was aware that he was being stalked by a ghost.

It sounded mad to him even thinking it, but he knew there was no other explanation anymore. Whenever the headache would come amidst the intense flashes of déjà vu, it was never long before the otherworldly creature appeared. It had started a little under six months ago and at first, Ludwig had written it off as just a dream, a trick of the light, his mind toying with him. Hell, Ludwig had even accused Gilbert of playing a prank on him, to which his older brother had laughed and mocked him but was completely innocent of in the end.

The first few times were small, barely noticeable to him. A faint brush of a hand against his forehead in the dead of night was a familiar sensation by this point. Something tugging at his clothes began not long after it and eventually he could even fell arms around him on the odd occasion. He'd still not come to the conclusion that something supernatural was going on, that was just silly. It had only taken one night to change his mind about that.

He'd awoken from a nightmare – having gotten a lot of those lately – and when he'd sat upright in his bed, gasping for air in a cold sweat Ludwig had been surprised to find that Italy had snuck into his bed again. Of course this had not concerned him all that greatly, it was such a common occurrence nowadays that Ludwig simply gave up trying to keep Italy out and tried not to let it bother him too much. He remembered having sighed faintly and smiled, relieved that it was just Italy that had stirred him.

What first stuck Germany as strange was the fact that despite the fact there was very obviously a person shaped lump under the sheets beside him it was not quite…Italy shaped. There was no reddish hair or curl to immediately identify the Italian nor the quiet 'vee' sounds he made while snoozing – in fact, the shape was not even breathing. Uncertain but not quiet frightened just yet, Ludwig had cautiously reached over to touch the shoulder of the possibly sleeping Feliciano. When he did Ludwig was relieved to find that the shape stirred and felt like a normal human shoulder, it was warm under his fingers and a great relief to Ludwig. He'd let out a sigh and scolded himself for being silly. Thinking nothing of it he had tried to return to sleep, but he simply could not get the rest he needed. It was so quiet, no movement from the usually twitchy Italian and not a single sound. No breathing, no sleeptalking, absolutely _nothing_.

It finally annoyed Ludwig enough and he decided to get to the bottom of it. Sitting up in an angry motion, Ludwig reached over to grab the blanket and pull it off Feli, if he woke the Italian – which was unlikely – he'd just apologise. Ludwig had dropped the sheet in fright and frozen like a statue when he saw what was actually laying in his bed. He did not recognise the boy, the headache that had helped rouse him earlier began to beat like the drums of hell against his head and the déjà vu turned into what might actually be considered a true memory, though it was hard to really tell the difference.

Lying on the bed with his back to Germany was a long blonde-haired boy – covered from head to toe in bruises. Ludwig's eyes swept over the boy at least three times, but still he could not entirely comprehend the extent of his injuries. Bruises of all sizes and colours littered his body, clinging not only to his back but his fragile looking arms and legs and among them lay worse atrocities. Bite marks marred his back and neck, some still weeping blood and the worst of them almost appearing as though an animal had caused them. There were cuts slashing across his back, dripping blood onto Ludwig's once clean sheets and worst of all was the hole in his chest. The gaping wound marked where the male's heart sat…or should have been. Ludwig could all but see through the torn tissue to the other side and it profusely pumped blood onto the bed, the red substance overflowing onto the floor.

As if realising he'd been seen, the disfigured boy began to stir, curling into a slightly tighter ball as the cold air hit his wounds with the blanket removed. Bony fingers gradually came to rest on the pillow and bed underneath him, clawing at the sheets as the unknown creature gradually pushed himself up, his back still facing Ludwig. By this point, Germany had no sense of reason or understanding. His mind was reeling, first trying to convince himself that this was simply a terribly vivid nightmare, but he knew that he was very much awake and the thing sitting in his bed, staining his white sheets red was very much _there_.

It made no sound though it must have been in unbearable pain, no creature's body could withstand such hardships, let alone remain silent through it all. Its every motion was slowly drawn out, as if it was waking from its own slumber and was struggling to fully rouse. It looked around the room unhurriedly but still did not face Germany who remained petrified, unsure of what to do. He'd woken up with many different unwelcome guests, but this was the first to genuinely terrify the sturdy German.

Almost timidly, the bloody boy-like creature reached out, fingers searchingly grazing across various different surfaces. First, the blankets and then the headboard, slowly making its way over to the bedside table where its fingers flinched back momentarily as though it had been burnt or surprised. When Ludwig's eyes moved to the place its fingers touched, he tensed all over. The ghostly fingers were reaching for his top drawer. Ludwig couldn't allow that.

"Don't!" The word came out in a choked cry of protest and Ludwig even reached to stop the creature but realised his mistake too late. The boy-like thing froze at the sound of his voice, as if only now realising that Ludwig was there at all. Its fingers left the bedside table and came to rest on his chest – Ludwig knew this because he could literally see the male's hand through the gaping hole in his chest.

Frozen, vulnerable and unable to force a single muscle to obey him, Ludwig had no choice but to watch as the creature cautiously turned its head towards him. Its face had not been spared the abuse and had its fair share of blood, as well, though unlike the other wounds one seemed to be inflicted by the creature itself. Over what Ludwig guessed was its left eye, which wept blood and was mostly obscured behind its matted blonde hair, there were multiple claw marks, as though it had tried to scratch away its own face. While the other side remained unharmed, it had its own grievances and a large gash ran straight across the ghost boy's nose, still bleeding considerably.

All of this did little to further unnerve Ludwig, it was instead the boy's right eye that brought him the most discomfort, staring at him with a luminous green hue the creature appeared to be crying. The clear liquid mixing with the blood and becoming pink as it travelled down its chin and eventually found its way onto the bed sheets. Ludwig became aware of the fact that he was simply staring at the human-like creature, doing absolutely nothing to protect himself. Finally coming to his senses, he'd leapt from the bed and on shaky legs, dove for the light switch. Ludwig had turned to look back for just an instant only to find that the boy had followed him, or rather it had simply appeared behind Ludwig without any need to walk. It was reaching towards Ludwig and seemed to be trying to speak with a terrified expression, but Ludwig was in his own world of horror and did not notice that perhaps the intention was not to harm. With a single cry of alarm, Ludwig threw the light on and just like that it ended.

The boy may as well never have been there because all traces of him were gone. The blood and fallen tears were nowhere to be found on Ludwig's sheets and while the hammering in Ludwig's chest and the slow uneasy walk back to bed were all reminders of how real it was, he had tried to get back to sleep. Needless to say, Ludwig didn't even close his eyes again that night and the light stayed on. After that night, Ludwig had been on edge and watched for headaches and telltale signs that the creature would reappear. It had shown itself twice more to Ludwig in a similar fashion to the first night, but it was always sent away by the light being desperately flicked on and Ludwig learnt to keep a nightlight on the bedside table just for such an emergency.

In those brief encounters Ludwig learnt a few things, he might have been scared half out of his wits, but he was still sharp and knew how to judge an enemy fairly well. The creature could not speak, he'd tried to speak in the past but the best it got out was a few feeble wheezing or gagging sounds – should it try to speak it usually began to cough up blood. It was always the same. The same boy with the same injuries giving support to the ghost theory Ludwig had, and almost always, the ghost would turn to Ludwig second in his persistent pursuit. It would try searching the room for something and Ludwig had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what it wanted. But he couldn't open that drawer for it, he wouldn't. He would never let anyone go into that drawer, ever. It was _his_ and Ludwig wouldn't let _anyone_ take it from him.

However, none of that knowledge or preparation did Ludwig any good in this instance. He had not been caught in the bathroom by the ghost before and it was not even nightfall yet, though the bathroom was considerably dimly lit. Ludwig could feel something warm beginning to seep into his clothes and again he knew without checking what it was dripping onto his exposed flesh – blood. Shuddering slightly, Ludwig took in a shaky breath, trying to remain composed though he saw no immediate escape and was well aware the thing could touch him.

To emphasise this, the ghost's thin cut-up arms tightened around Ludwig's waist and he felt the creature rest its head in the crook of his neck. It was strange but no immediate harm came to Ludwig, simply a terrifying knowledge that he was trapped. It also broke from the usual routine, if it had appeared in the bed as usual it would have gone for the table first but instead he was in here with Ludwig, tormenting him further. Ludwig did not like this breach of routine, he liked things to go as planned and while having a ghost haunt him in his bed was not a favourable situation, it was at least consistent.  
This was unpredictable. This ghost was unpredictable and that terrified Ludwig most of all.

"Bitte…." Ludwig choked out quietly, not daring to raise his head and look in the mirror as he knew he'd see the blood and horror again if he did. "..bitte…go away." Ludwig pleaded quietly, he had no other resort. Should he try lashing out at the creature, he may just wind up dead and its grip seemed unbreakable.

There was a quiet rustling behind Ludwig and he felt hair ticking his neck as the creature buried its face into the crock of his neck further in an obvious 'no'. Knowing it could not speak, Ludwig was careful as he paid attention to its physical actions.

"Release me…" Ludwig tried again, a little firmer but the result was similar only this time the arms tightened slightly. "Why?" Ludwig asked a little too harshly, resulting in an angry growl like sound coming from the creature, cautioning Ludwig against speaking out too boldly. Quite quickly Ludwig was running out of options and ideas, he was going to panic soon and he could already feel himself beginning to hyperventilate.

Then there was a distraction for them both and Ludwig did not know if he was grateful for it or not. "Luddy?" Absolutely not! When Ludwig heard Gilbert's voice, he tensed as his eyes opened wide in fear as his big brother's voice flooded him with worry. What would the ghost do if interrupted? Would it turn on Gilbert, as well? "Hey, West, you alright in there? Thought I heard something strange." A slight shifting of weight gave fuel to Ludwig's fears as the creature's arms unwound from his waist and rest almost lazily on his sides and even the presence of the ghost's chest vanished.

In a panic, Ludwig looked up to the cupboard mirror to see what the monstrous boy was doing. The creature was not looking at Ludwig and instead looking towards the door, an expression of surprise on his face. Ludwig was thrown off-guard when a sudden smile broke out onto the creature's lips. It was a bright excited smile, almost the kind of expression a happy child might make. It mouthed Gilbert's name, but no sound came out despite its efforts.

Quickly, the creature released Ludwig and began to turn towards the door, no doubt going for Gilbert. With each step it took it left a bloody footprint in its wake, fear for his brother drove Ludwig to do something he knew he shouldn't have. The creature had just left the bathroom and opened its mouth as if to call out to Gilbert a second time, when Ludwig grabbed it's surprisingly thin body and pushed it down to the ground with him, covering its mouth while frantically calling out to Gilbert.

"Y-Yeah, bruder." Ludwig replied, trying to sound confident. "Simply another headache, please don't make too much noise for a while." He lied efficiently even under pressure and Prussia wasn't terribly suspicious, much to Ludwig's great relief he called some halfwit response about being too awesome for headaches and left. It was then that Ludwig's blood turned ice cold, realising the position he'd put himself in.

Slowly and fearfully he looked down at the creature and was surprised to see it was simply staring at the door where Gilbert had been moments ago with a pitiful gaze, as though it had just lost something precious. With caution, Ludwig let go of the boy's mouth, realising it he'd become covered in its blood. At this action, the boy turned back to face Ludwig with its one glowing eye and it simply stared at him. This tense situation lasted roughly five minutes before finally Ludwig spoke.

"…Why are you here?" He asked even when he knew the creature could not respond with its own voice. He did get a response as wordlessly the boy pointed towards the bedside table and then to Ludwig's chest. Ludwig's heart twisted painfully in his chest. He did not want to give the creature what it wanted, but now he knew it would respond to Gilbert and do only god knows what to him, he could no longer afford to deny it. For his big brother, he had to stop being selfish.

"If…If I open it for you…" Ludwig began slowly. "Will you stop?" The reply was immediate, a small nod of its head and Ludwig was off of him. He took a few uncertain steps back when he got off the creature and when he was satisfied it wasn't going to suddenly lunge at him, he turned towards the table. With the occasional glance to check over his shoulder and make sure the ghost hadn't suddenly appeared behind him, Ludwig walked to the table. The ghost merely watched him, sitting up but moving no further as it continued to bloody his carpet. It was okay, it was always gone when the ghost vanished otherwise it would have been a cleaning nightmare.

With a heavy sigh, Ludwig opened the bedside table drawer and looked in. It was strange how he was so adamant about keeping it safe, but Ludwig had actually forgotten what he'd placed in there. A single item lay nestled in the dusty drawer, a necklace that had various small cracks as though it had been broken into many pieces and painstakingly stuck back together. Ludwig stared at it, puzzled as to why it was he wanted to keep it so badly, it wasn't something he'd wear and it looked terribly old.

Then a hand moved past Ludwig and into the drawer, grabbing hold of the necklace with bloodied fingers. Ludwig immediately snapped at this, turning on the creature with his hands wrapped around its throat roughly and slamming it back against the ground, eyes wild as it began to thrash, wishing the creature to die again for trying to take what belonged to him. Underneath him the boy writhed and clawed at his hands, but he could do nothing to dislodge the older male.

"That is mein!" Ludwig snarled furiously as he glared down at the creature. "You can't steal it, I won't let you! It's all I have left now!" He shouted at the creature while trying to ring its neck. Even as Ludwig did this, the creature kept a firm grip on the necklace. "Don't you get it? It's the only thing I've got left, without it I'll forget about everything!"

"L-Lu..d…" It tried to speak and Ludwig flinched back in alarm when he realised it was trying to say a name, _his_ name. The slightest loosening of his fingers was enough for it to get out a full word. "L-Ludwig…" It gasped out and a cold chill swept over Ludwig. Under him the creature's cuts had closed, the bruises faded as though they were weeks old and even the claw marks over its face had started to vanish one by one.

Watching in amazement as the creature's body rapidly repaired itself and slowly became more human-like, Ludwig was hit with an almost crushing realisation.

"Je…Jett?" Ludwig murmured, the almost completely forgotten name and soon his fingers released the now human looking boy's throat. Coughing violently, the blonde rolled onto his side, gasping to get his breath back from Ludwig's throttling. Ludwig simply sat there in bewilderment as the monster that had hunted him rapidly became a forgotten face of someone he'd sworn that he'd once known.

"Ah…" Jett laughed with a weak wheezing chough. "G-Good to see you, too, mate…"

Ludwig was in a state of shock, the memories were hazy but he had them again. It almost seemed like a dream, everything that had happened and everything he'd done. Remembering the marks that had littered the ghost form of Jett, Ludwig's heart leapt into his throat realising that some of them belonged to his own hands.

Ludwig began to tremble, overwhelmed by the roaring emotions he felt. The now less dead-looking Jett seemed to notice this and smiled slightly, leaning up as he wrapped his arms around Ludwig's neck and shoulders, holding him like he had on a few occasions in life.

"Still such a cute ankle-biter." Jett mused with a quiet chuckle. Ludwig's composure was nowhere to be found as his blue eyes filled with tears and he desperately wrapped his arms around the dead nation. Jett let him cry, patting his dishevelled hair back gently as Ludwig quietly sobbed in his embrace. For a while they stayed like that, neither speaking a word as they quietly cried.

All the madness was over and now they both had their sense returned as the reality of what they'd done struck them both painfully, worst of all Ludwig had to come to terms with the fact that the person now comforting him was someone that – at least, in his own mind – he had killed.

Gradually, Jett released his hold of Ludwig and got to his feet while Ludwig stayed on his knees, hands falling into Jett's own as he watched the other move, too shaken to move yet himself. Jett held the necklace up to his face and smiled in a sad way.

"It's seen better days." He mused with a small laugh. "You put it back together pretty well though, eh? I didn't think that you'd keep such a thing." With one hand holding his 'heart' and the other holding Ludwig's hand like a child, Jett turned to him and smiled warmly. All the while the hole in his chest seemed to stitch itself shut, after all it had only needed to touch the necklace to be properly mended just as it had restored his voice.

"Thank you," He spoke in a soothing whisper. "For keeping my heart." With such tenderness he hadn't ever felt firsthand before, Jett opened Ludwig's hand and placed the necklace delicately on his palm. "Please keep looking after it for me."

"J-Jett." Ludwig tried to keep hold of the other's hand, but the Australian stepped away from him with a woeful smile and Ludwig could only watch in terror as his body began to break away.

"Sorry, mate, got to get going." Jett told him with a grin, even now as he cried. "Come see me though. You know where I'll be, right?"

"Wait..! You can't. I have things to say to you!" Ludwig protested ardently, trying to get to his feet to reach the other before the ghost shattered away into nothingness. He had apologies to make, new promises to confess and keep, Ludwig wanted to tell Jett while he was completely sane that he still wanted them to remain together. Jett only smiled at him sadly, it seemed he already knew it all.

"Come and see me in the summertime." Ludwig's hand reached Jett's and for a brief second, he was able to hold it and Ludwig even felt Jett give a gentle squeeze back before he broke away into many pieces, leaving Ludwig grasping at air. The German collapsed back to his knees as the individual particles dispersed and distantly, he swore that he heard one last whisper.

 _"I guess it really is yours now."_   Jett's voice chuckled distantly and slowly even that faded away.  _"Take good care of me."  
_ And then there was nothing left of the ghost.

None the less, Ludwig did not accept it so willingly. Getting up he went to the light switch, turning it off in an attempt to resummon the creature but for once it did not appear in the darkness. Frustrated, Ludwig flipped the light back and forth, time and time again. He did this until Gilbert returned, having heard shouting and crying. He found his little brother a complete mess and frantically turning the switch on and off…long after he'd busted it.

Gilbert tried to console his baby brother, but nothing seemed to calm Ludwig. He continued crying and shouting his frustrations, trying to fight Gilbert off when he attempted to pull him from the room.

Finally when all his strength left him, Ludwig collapsed as a crying mess into his big brother's chest. He apologised profusely, remembering all he'd put Gilbert through and made many promises on never doing such a thing again. For a moment, the great Germany was simply a child looking for his big brother's comfort and support.

Gilbert was surprised, but he didn't fight it and instead he simply stroked his brother's messy hair and murmured comforting phrases to him in German until the younger drifted off to sleep. Gilbert noticed that even after his eyes had shut, the other German kept crying. Laughing quietly, Gilbert smiled in a melancholic way.

"At least you remembered," he mused aloud. The truth was that while Gilbert's memory lapsed from time to time, he was one of the only people left in the world that truly recalled the angry little Australian. Perhaps, it was the bottle he kept in his room as a reminder or maybe it was because he was also technically no longer a nation that made the memory stick with him, but Gilbert thought it could only be one thing.

"I am the most awesome best friend ever," Gilbert declared, even as tears stung his eyes. "These aren't tears. This is just my awesomeness overflowing like it normally does." He murmured to himself while placing his hand over his eyes and allowing the tears to drip past his fingers.

It was okay though. Really, it was. Gilbert didn't know how, but he just knew it was. It had to be…or he'd break down completely.  
And that would be unawesome.  
  


…  
…  
…

_The Spirit_

 

Christian was waiting. Today was to be a very special day, very incredibly special. Of course, he wasn't actually looking forward to it one bit. He stood at the port with a big ass grin plastered on his face and Zea standing next to him with a quizzical expression.

"What are you grinning for?" New Zealand asked irritably. "Weren't you just saying how you didn't want any of them to come over ever again?"

"Oi, shush!" Oz snapped at his brother with an indignant frown. "Don't tell 'em that, okay?"

"Right, right," Zea droned with a roll of his eyes. "I'm surprised they all agreed, who'd want to spend Christmas with you?"

"Hey! Don't you spend it with me every year?" Chris asked, looking heartbroken by the mean way Toby spoke about his Christmases…his Christmas parties were the best, damnit!

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway," Chris said, turning back to face the open water with a smile. "This year is a special year, you know."

"Why is that?" Zea played along with a bored expression.

"Because this year it's a promise." Zea grinned and he vaguely understood what the other meant. His memory was leaving him, but much more slowly than everyone else. Netherlands no longer

understood what he was talking about when he called him, but Zea still remembered – at least just enough to understand.

"Ah! There they are," Chris exclaimed excitedly and began to jump up and down, waving at an approaching ship, wooting embarrassingly. However, the idiot's called was replied to by a louder idiot's call.

"Dude, we came to visit!" America's voice shouted back from the deck of the ship where he stood dangerously close to the railing, waving back ecstatically while England tried to pull him down. New

Zealand could only stare with an expression of disgust as his faith in humanity dwindled between the two idiots.

While Chris bounced up and down in false excitement, he thought back to the reason behind this gathering. There would be people there he didn't want to see – not naming any names, Russia – but it wasn't for him, at least not entirely. As the boat drew closer, Chris stopped jumping about and stood waiting for his guests with a welcoming smile on his face.

He was Australia. Australia did not hold grudges, he did not hate others and he was always ready with a warm smile and laid-back jokes for bad times. This was the Australia that his brother had longed for and Chris was going to make it a reality.

As the ship landed at the dock, Chris prepared to greet everyone with just such a smile. He knew Germany would be there and he knew Russia would have come along, tool. They'd all agreed to it despite seeming to forget why it was they wanted to come in the first place. Chris knew that he'd probably never quite stop flinching around Russia or carefully watching Germany's every move, but he did not need to hate them forever.

The first person to step off the boat was America, who immediately ran towards them full speed while shouting excitedly about a summer Christmas and Prussia wasn't far behind him, just as loud and possibly even more excited. Following him was everyone that Chris had expected. Italy clung to Germany's arm as they walked towards them and not far behind Alfred was a somewhat flustered England.

Beyond them, Chris caught a glimpse of Russia's scarf and even noticed a much more polite Japan walking towards them. He knew that somewhere in the mix, Canada would be floating around in his usual invisible fashion until he was closer. The only real surprise to Chris was his extended family, France stood with Scotland laughing about something – probably Iggy, and even Wales and Ireland had come for a visit.

 _"Do you know now? "_ Chris remembered the day that the native boy had appeared in front of him again, just as he had promised. The morning he'd issued the invitations to the other nations no less. _"Why it was you existed?"_

 _“Of course!”_ Christian had responded with a grin. _"I exist to keep the Australian spirit alive."_ At his answer, the native boy had smiled and for the second time replied.

_"Good answer."_

They had a large group of guests to entertain that year and Christian was determined to show them the Aussie spirit in all its glory. With hands on his hips and a grin on his face, Chris prepared for the first Christmas without his big brother standing by his side but he did not feel sad. Not really, because he knew that by an unmarked grave on a hill side they were being watched by two lost boys as they indulged in the country that had been left to them by those two.

This was the way that they had chosen to go and while it was painful, they would see it through to the end.   
And one day, they'd surely meet in the summertime again.  
  


…   
…   
…

Departure- End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parting note: I'll leave it up to your imagination if Russia and Germany were just crazy with guilt and grief or if Jett is running around in ghost land. Heh, whatever helps you sleep at night.  
> I figure this isn’t a ‘bad’ ending perse, simply one version of it. If you want to see the ‘happy’ ending I got that to.


	14. End 2 - Reunion

Come Meet Me at the End.

 

 _I think I've been here before._  

"So that's that."

_Almost like déjà vu._

"I'll see you at the grave site. I'd like to see how it ends."

_Almost like a dream._

"Come and see me in the summertime."

_Almost like another world._

_A mistake._

 

…  
…  
…

 

End- Reunion.

 

Jett awoke quietly; his body was at ease and his morning routine was broken when his eyes opened without being accompanied by a scream or sudden upward jerk as he pulled himself from a nightmare – for the first time in decades, Jett woke up without anything to weigh him down.

The material beneath his fingers was soft, warm and it was comfortable, even if he was kneeling against the side of the bed. His back ached and his legs had long since gone numb with only the faint prick of pins and needles remaining to tell the owner his legs had not just fallen off. In fact, the only thing hindering Jett that morning was the stinging on the left side of his face – that was his own doing, so he paid it no mind.

With his eyes just open, Jett idly peered out the open window that sat opposite himself and the bed he clung to. For once, it seemed the dull clouds that had smothered the land only hours before had dispersed and in their wake Jett could clearly see the sun shining brightly as the night tipped over into morning. It was strange to believe he'd been sitting at this bedside for only a single night – it felt like a thousand years had passed in the quiet room.

The air that flowed into the brightly lit room passed lazily through Jett's hair and clothes, giving them a slight ruffle as it moved on through. The air was cold to Jett, but for once he didn't mind. It was a soothing coolness that relaxed his tired muscles.  
And that coolness did not affect the warmth that radiated from the hand he clutched so tightly.

Jett's gaze flicked from the window to his own, calloused, scarred hand, where in a gentle grasp he held onto a smooth, flawless hand. It almost appeared delicate to Jett as he vacantly stared. When they'd arrived back at the manor that night, the hand he currently held had been dripping with bright red blood and flecked with filthy splashes of mud – it had been so cold back then.

The warmth it gave off now meant that he was alive. It meant that Jett had not lost another brother and that was all the comfort in the world. When his brother was taken from his arms and into the now brightly lit room, Jett had requested to stay with him. Just until morning would be enough, just until his body was warm again.

As Jett continued to look blankly at the hand he held, he could not help but think back to a time when that hand had been larger than his, now it looked small in comparison to his own hands. The thought made the tired nation smile slightly and give the hand a small squeeze. Still half asleep, Jett nestled his head down on the crook of his arm and stared blankly into space with his eyes only half-open.

He knew that he'd need to leave soon. If he stayed too long the owner of the hand he held might wake up and Jett had not seen to the others he had to before he left. Unconcernedly, Jett mulled over what his punishment would eventually be. He did wonder if Christian would also be punished to some extent, but he doubted their big brother would take it that far, he had a better frame of mind nowadays. It wasn't like the past.

Jett knew he'd probably be forced to disappear after all was said and done, he'd only request that before that happened, he could visit the people he had to before leaving. He needed to see each face before he could leave the new world behind to his brothers and if he could…Jett would like to finish it at the grave site.

"A promise…" Jett mumbled resignedly. "…I guess I could at least keep this one."

Allowing his eyes to slide shut, Jett's mind began to fade back towards a shallow sleep…and he felt something cold beginning to crawl in his insides. He knew that soon he'd need to go or his body might turn cold in front of Arthur.

Then a gentle stirring of his hair brought Jett out of that weakly napping state. The comforting sensation of fingers running through his matted blonde hair had Jett's eyes open again and when he gradually turned his eyes upwards, he saw a familiar face looking down at him with a faint smile.

"I've woken up to worse sights." His brother breathed with a quiet laugh as his hand continued to run through his exhausted little brother's hair.

"England…" Jett mumbled, struggling to pull himself out of the murky waters of sleep, so he could respond coherently and escape from the other's sight. He'd overslept, Jett had not wanted his face to be the first that England saw when he awoke, it would be almost insulting for that to be the first thing that his big brother laid eyes on after being so close to death.

 

"I'm sorry…I-I'll get out of here…!" With rapid motions, Jett began to fall over his excuses as he stumbled to try and get up, only to find his legs were useless after so many hours of being numb and unmoved. In the midst of his clumsy attempts to escape, Jett felt a slight squeeze in his left hand. Pausing, Jett looked back at Arthur's hand that he had not realised he was still holding.

"You silly sod." Arthur laughed warmly as he squeezed Jett's hand more firmly. "Have you been sitting there the whole night? You must be mad."

Jett let out a single yelp of alarm as the other male pulled him back, escape officially ruined as he was hauled onto the bed awkwardly. With one hand still holding onto Arthur's and the other stopping him from falling on the injured male, Jett stared down at Arthur with a frantic expression. He looked very similar to a rabbit caught in the headlights.

Very gently did Arthur's hand reach up and wrap around Jett's head, fingers sliding through the loose strands of blonde hair as he cupped the back of Jett's head, and a moment later pull Jett down toward him, embracing him in a tight hug. Jett's eyes remained wide open as he was held against his brother's still injured body, with one hand intertwined with Arthur's gently squeezing hand, Jett could do nothing more than squeeze back mutely.

"You're home." Arthur's soothing voice muttered in a disbelieving whisper, as though speaking an impossible dream. Jett realised that Arthur's shoulders were trembling just slightly and as he realised that his big brother was crying, a kiss was pressed to his forehead followed by another meek murmur. "Finally…"

Bit by bit Jett's heart seemed to crack, breaking as he heard his brother's own tear filled voice. With his free hand, Jett grabbed a fistful of his brother's shirt, clutching to the other tightly like he would when he was a child. At this motion, Arthur wrapped his arm around Jett more tightly, comforting the other as they lay there in the sunbathed room, wishing for nothing else than for time to freeze in place.

It was as though Jett really had returned home for the first time in decades.

For a while at least they stayed that way, Arthur would occasionally run his hands through Jett's hair or give his hand a small squeeze, but neither of them spoke a word and the cold that had started to grip Jett's insides slowly receded as it was replaced by the warmth of Arthur's embrace. All thoughts of vanishing flew from Jett's mind, all ideas on leaving in the early morning to make an escape to the grave he knew he would soon need to visit were put on hold. For now, all Jett wanted in the whole world was to be there, with that warm feeling glowing in his chest.

Arthur was content to remain that way for the remainder of the day. Hell, Arthur would have been ready to remain that way forever, but something caught his attention. Moving Jett to arm's length, he noticed the boy's hair was down, not unusual considering how ragged he appeared, obviously not having left the room since the battle. But, it was the hair he'd raked down over the left side of his face that concerned Arthur.

Wordlessly, he reached to brush the dirty blonde strands aside to check, but Jett recoiled from him and hid his face under his hand as he tried to conceal what he'd hidden under the strands of hair.

"Jett." Arthur chided gently. "Don't hide from me. We've had enough of that, have we not?" Gradually, almost begrudgingly, Jett obeyed and dropped his hand to the bed, allowing Arthur to look even though he wanted to hide it from the other. And as gently and as nonthreateningly as possible, so as not to scare his little brother away from his touch again, he did. This time Jett only cringed as his hair was pushed aside and Arthur had to bite back an alarmed gasp when he saw what he'd been hiding.

Multiple claw marks covered the left side of Jett's face. The scratches were angry and inflamed, flaring a painful looking shade of red. The boy's eye was closed and even his eye lids had not been spared as a set of three jagged scratch marks clawed right through it. Some of the wounds were bleeding and those that weren't had dried evidence of their bleeding cracking around them. These wounds were fresh and had been made sometime between the battlefield and this morning. Arthur already knew they were self-inflicted wounds. 

"Jett…" The Englishman choked out the younger's name, horror lacing his tone. Immediately, the other spoke up, quickly trying to explain himself and stop Arthur from making further comment.

"I got low alright!" He said fervently, trying to angle his head away from Arthur's gaze. "I-I…when I saw your face…" Jett murmured more quietly, his shoulders shaking. "When I saw what I'd done to your face…I just couldn't stand it." Jett's fingers delicately probed the tender side of his face. "I just… I wasn't thinking. I was just so _angry_."

Arthur saw fresh tears forming in his brother's seeing eye and immediately enveloped him into a tight embrace, squeezing the boy close to him as if desperately trying to hold him together.

"It's okay." Arthur desperately tried to comfort the other. "Don't cry. It's okay, lad, it's all alright." Promising him in a rapid whisper, Arthur pat the other's hair back again, knowing the action tended to calm his little brother. Jett responded almost immediately, fingers grabbing the sleeves of Arthur's clothes and clinging to him. Pride no longer came into the equation, not for Arthur and not for Jett. The only thing on their minds was simply this. This was the mending they had hoped for, whether they knew it or not.

"Right…" Arthur said after Jett seemed to have calmed down enough, once again holding him at arm's length with a gentle smile. "Let's have a look at that face." With that, Arthur began to move, trying to get his stiff body to respond so he could get some disinfectant for his little brother. 

"Wait, Arthur." Jett quickly tried to stand, his wobbly legs obviously gone to sleep after so many hours of not moving, quickly failed him and he didn't get very far before he was forced to sit back on the bed to get his bearings, but he still vocally protested Arthur's attempts. "You can't leave bed, you're injured." Jett insisted worriedly.

"Hm? I am?" Arthur couldn't deny that he was sore all over and in certain places he was sure bones were broken, but at the same time he didn't feel half as bad as his logic told him he should. With a gradually returning event emerging from foggy images, Arthur recalled taking a rather lethal blow from Russia. In fact, Arthur had been fairly sure it was a killing blow and thus, his current 'alright' condition was puzzling. Jett, on the other hand, was relieved; the fairy had done as he asked and rather efficiently at that. Feral fairies needed more credit, they were strong workers when it was in their best interest, if nothing else.

"Here." Jett said eventually, finally sorting out his disobedient legs. "I'll get it." He announced, standing from the bed and although his progress was a tad on the unbalanced side, he had managed to competently make his way over to the table where various medical equipment was laid out. All for Arthur, of course.

Arthur was satisfied as long as he got the disinfectant and bandages he wanted and he couldn't help but marvel at his little brother's compliance. As a child, Jett had usually outright refused any kind of treatment, especially if it involved the 'stingy stuff' as he called it back in those days. To some extent, that stubbornness remained, a cut didn't mean much to Jett and it was a common phrase to rub some dirt in it, something Arthur was mortified by the mere thought of. Still, Jett returned dutifully with the disinfectant and bandages, hardly needing to be instructed as to what he needed to retrieve.

Almost immediately after giving the items to Arthur, Jett sat down with his gaze carefully angled towards the ground. Arthur noticed fairly quickly how Jett continued to hang his head low and avoid eye contact with his big brother at most every turn. It was clear to Arthur that Jett was punishing himself, and although he had done many things that should have called for proper punishment, Arthur was too overcome with relief and joy to even consider it.

"Now, lad." Arthur chided while unscrewing the lid of the disinfectant and using a piece of the bandages as a cloth to apply the treatment. "That's quite enough moping." He mused with a faint smile as he gently pressed the moist fabric to Jett's cheek, finding the first of the scratches and getting a small hiss of pain from his little brother. Jett looked well and truly like a remorseful kicked puppy that morning and while Arthur was not going to be forgetting this event any time soon, he was not angry in the slightest. 

Chuckling when Jett let out a whine of discomfort, Arthur looked at him as he would have when Jett was still just a boy. "Oh, come now, it doesn't hurt that much. You've fared far worse." Jett remained quiet as the cloth was pressed time and time again against his various cuts, bringing a small stab of pain with each gentle touch.

"Still…" Arthur continued with a frown. "It worries me that you'd do this yourself. What if you'd blinded yourself, Jett? Did you think of that at all? Such a reckless boy."

"Come on, mum." Jett complained quietly. "Don't lecture me."

For a split second Arthur paused, the rag still pressed just over Jett's eye. His knee jerk reaction was to bite back at the Aussie for calling him mother, but after a second or two Arthur was just pleased to be referred to in what he guessed was an affectionate manner.

After Arthur failed to retaliate, Jett tacked on a quiet apology. "I'm fine. Won't do it again." The boy muttered out begrudgingly and Arthur's smile returned. Despite their current appearances, covered from head to toe in bandages with various cuts and bruises littered over them, Arthur had not felt better in years. It felt as though a great weight had shifted from his shoulders. Knowing this, Arthur's smile gradually faded and the hand that pressed the disinfectant to Jett's face dropped just slightly. 

"Arthur?" Jett spoke his name questioningly and for a second the Englishman did not respond.

"I must be a complete fool." England laughed finally, the sound somewhat bitter as he pressed his palm against his forehead, fighting back feelings of nervousness and anxiety. "After all this time I finally have you back…but…" Taking a deep, shuddering breath Arthur worked to clam himself down before saying what he had to.

"If you wish to secede from the commonwealth, you have my blessing to go." Arthur watched as Jett tensed up violently, his muscles locking up as he stared, wide eyed up at him. Abruptly, Jett grabbed fistfuls of the sheets he sat on, head bowed as he grit his teeth, biting back some kind of pain.

"Y-You…" Jett muttered, frustration and desperation mixing together to create a confused tone. "You bastard…are you trying to send me away again?"

"No, lad." Arthur spoke quickly, taken aback by this conclusion.

"Why do you do this?" Jett demanded, shaking his head angrily. "You force me to stay when I struggle, but you push me away when I want to stay. Why do you do that? It makes no sense!" In the middle of Jett's rantings, Arthur snatched up on of his hands, squeezing it firmly and demanding Jett's attention before he could get too riled up.

"Listen to me now!" Arthur insisted, breaking through his brother's grown anxiety for a moment. "I will grant you any life you wish for. If you want to leave, I will let you go but if you…if you would stay." Arthur hesitated, holding Jett's hand firmly in his own. "I will never send you away again."

Again, Jett was left with nothing to say, he sat there helplessly as his brother's voice softened into a soothing tone. "Having you home again would make me happy, yes, that's true – but I want nothing more than to see you happy. Just this once, I'm able to support you. So, Jett, no matter what name you take or how many miles you put between you and myself, I will always be by your side. 

"B-But your own way is –" Arthur shushed Jett before he could finish the thought.

"It's ours." Arthur murmured firmly. "We go together this time. If that is what you want, you will never need to make your own way – not on your own. I've learned something from you, Jett, I know there's nothing in this world you would not do for your brothers – I want to be able to say the same for myself."

Finally, Jett couldn't muster up any more protests and instead wrapped his arms around his big brother's shoulders, trying not to let his body tremble as he fought back familiar, bitter tears. Arthur merely wrapped an arm around Jett and allowed him the time he needed to rebuild his thoughts. After having been torn down and restructured so many times, England knew the importance of giving Jett time, Arthur knew a lot from this horrible campaign and while he wished it had never occurred – he'd never forget what he had learnt from it either.

It was a knock at the door that broke Arthur from his thoughts. Looking up towards the wooden door as it pushed open just an inch, revealing a familiar set of green eyes peering in – never before had Arthur felt so relieved to see his own big brother. On the other side of the barely opened door, Scotland looked in at his two brothers and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. 

"Thought you two might 'av killed one another, while my back was turned." He grunted and kicked the door open enough to let himself in, Arthur could have told him not to come in, but he was trying not to start any more fights with his brothers just yet. He would remain true to his word – yet still, arguments and rough housing between brothers was inevitable and mostly harmless.

Scotland took one look at Jett and rubbed the back of his head with a faint smirk. "Well, look at that." Jett was caught between glaring at Scotland and apologising. "Yer both in one piece and getting along, 'bout time." 

"If you're quite done commentating." Arthur was short with his brother. He didn't want to fight with Alistair, but neither the Scottish brother nor English had much patience when it came to the other.

"Aye, aye. Don't be getting snippy with me, lad." Alistair warned as he leant back against the frame of the door, continuing to look at Jett and Arthur. "It's your lady calling." At this Arthur hesitated, he couldn't ignore the call of his Queen – he still had to thank her profusely for allowing him to act so recklessly, then he needed to apologise for getting injured because of his behavior.

"Don't worry." Alistair interjected. "She sent me to check up on ya. Wanted to make sure you were alright." Again, his eyes swept over the two brothers. "Haven't see you look better in years."

"Nonsense." Arthur blurted. "I look bloody awful and you know it."

"Aye, that I do." Alistair smirked around his cigarette. "But, you always look like shite to me. This could be considered an improvement."

After this Arthur and Alistair simply stared at one another, a scowl and smirk meeting in the usual way. It was only when Jett began to shift that Arthur's glare was cut short as he turned to look at his brother.

"The queen…?" Jett murmured, his eyes brows furrowing slightly as he shook his head. "I-I need to do something first. I can't go yet." On that note, he stood up shakily from Arthur's bedside, despite his brother's attempts to have him sit back down. 

"Where do ya think you're going, lad?" Alistair demanded when Jett stumbled on past him to the door. Momentarily, Jett stopped with one hand on the door and one foot into the hallway.

"To the keep a promise." With that, Jett shut the door firmly behind him, the shock of his sudden departure causing both Arthur and Alistair to hesitate – taken off guard. However, the sound of the lock being turned with a sharp click caused both brothers to jump back into movement.

Alistair grabbed for the handle of the door and found – just as he expected – Jett had locked them in. With one hand furiously jiggling the handle and the other pounding on the sturdy door that barred them in, Alistair started shouting.

"Get the hell back here!" He knew that pounding on the door would only do so much good – at best, someone would hear and Arthur would scold him for damaging his property. "Jett! _Jett_!" Alistair continued to shout after their escaping brother. Arthur was alarmed, but still reeling from the shock of what had happened – he was in the dark on what exactly Jett's parting comment had meant. Alistair, meanwhile, had a pretty damn good idea on what it had meant and he was trying his damnedest to get through the door and stop Jett before he did something unbelievably stupid.

"W-What on earth is happening?" Arthur, struggling to stand, asked desperately. Alistair almost ignored him as he began to try and kick the door in – he could apologise for breaking Arthur's house later. "Alistair!"

"How dense can you be?" Alistair turned on Arthur furiously. "You're the closest to the brat, right? How can you not know what's going through his head right now?" Alistair would have shaken Arthur had he not been so afraid his brother might actually break in his current condition. "He's off to die, you idiot!"

At these words Arthur froze, Alistair could see the horror in his eyes and regretted being so blunt about it, but locked in this room they weren't going to help any – there was no point in being gentle now.

 

…  
…  
...

 

Jett felt a twinge of guilt when he heard Scotland shouting after him – his older brother was sharper than Arthur gave him credit for. Still, Jett did not turn back and his hesitation didn't last long, he could feel time slipping by rapidly. The sun had already risen and he was sure that soon the household would all be waking. Jett barely had any time left and he knew that he needed to move quickly.

First, a visit to his sleeping brothers, with a quick goodbye through a slightly opened door.

Next, a delivery of plane tickets to Kiku and a parting glance at old allies.

And final the end at a familiar grave site.

That was all he had time for, nothing more and nothing less. That was what Jett was sure would happen, it almost seemed like he was following a script he'd dreamed up – only there was a hitch. In fact, there was a bit more than a single, small snag. Actually, absolutely no one seemed willing to follow Jett's script.

A few steps down the hall and already people were noticing him. Jett tried to avoid the human's gaze, noting that they did not seem hostile – more a mix of concern and confusion. It would be all the same if they stopped him and so Jett began to walk faster. He wanted to reach his first destination without interruption. Thankfully, the humans did not seem to know what to do with him – they'd been given no orders by country or Queen and so they were simply at a loss and that suited Jett just find.

Quickly, he made his way through England's home and found the door he'd been seeking out. In the progressively illuminating morning light, the grandeur of Arthur's home began to shine. Rather than the melancholy halls and heavy wooden doors, it became a house filled with warm lights and wonderfully decorated corridors and for a second Jett was caught off guard by the simple sight of the light hitting the door he'd come to stand before. It's slight opening allowed the gentle stream of light into the room and he could just make out where the light fell over two sets of beds.

Would he miss this? Jett couldn't help but wonder. Having never stopped to look at something as simple as the morning sun, he felt a distinct feeling of dread grow inside of him. He was going to miss this place. The warmth of a summer day, the slight wind that kicked up in spring and sent the blooming flower petals into the sky. The happy smile his brother would make whenever something so purely beautiful happened. Even the arguments and play fights he got into with his family – Jett would definitely miss it all or maybe the dead could not feel loss at all. Perhaps, that was an even worse idea to consider.

Shaking off such trivial, doubtful thoughts, Jett stepped towards the room and risked a quick peek inside. His brothers looked to be fast asleep and despite their bandages and injuries – they seemed to be alright, and better yet they were still together. From where Jett stood he could see the two sleeping on the same bed, New Zealand and Australia linking hands as they slept peacefully – it set his mind at ease to know neither of them would be alone when he was gone. Jett unwisely let out a sigh of relief.

Jett froze. His brother had stirred. 

"Jett…?" Immediately, Jett leapt back from the door at the sound of Christian's exhausted voice calling his name. He'd been careless and cost himself some last words of farewell, he couldn't let his brothers know he was leaving – goodbye was too painful to even think about.

So, he fled. Without a word, Jett turned tail and continued down the hall, moving as quickly as his legs would allow him – a little difficult with the eerie icy sensation that had once again begun to set in. But he couldn't stop, he couldn't have Chris spotting him or he'd lose sight of his end goal.

However, as he escaped the scene the sound of his hastily taken footsteps reached the drowsy Australian and immediately sobered him up. Chris sat upright in bed, earning himself a world of pain and a disgruntled growl from the still sleeping Zea. Ignoring both, he looked towards the door where he'd heard the sound of his big brother's voice and, if he was correct, retreating footsteps. 

For a few seconds, Chris continued to stare at the door, his mind racing to catch up with everything else. The link between he and Jett had been restored out on the battlefield, he'd felt his brother return to him and now he was torn between being thankful and filled with regret – because in that moment, that fleeting second where he'd caught Jett outside his door – Chris felt exactly what it was that was driving his big brother. 

Chris had never been so scared in all his life. In the moments where Jett had lost all reason and become inconsolable or even abusive, or when he'd felt the first bullet rip through his leg as Russia fired on him – it did not come close. Christian was a fool in that way, he feared most greatly the knowledge that Jett intended to die, then the possibility of his own demise. Well, there was no point in rearranging his priorities at this point.

Making up his mind, Christian tried to get out of bed but the moment he put weight on his leg, his body gave out. Crumpling to the ground with a loud thud, Chris let out a low groan of pain. His legs were still next to useless. While countries healed fast, he'd been shot by Russia. The gun was not his personal weapon, so thankfully the damage would still heal rapidly by a human's standards and would leave no scars, but walking was still a chore that Chris wasn't sure he could carry through with. Frustrated and desperate, Chris tried again.

His legs would not support him and the rest of his torso and arms were almost in worse shape. Ivan had used that blasted pipe of his to break bones Chris wasn't even aware he could break. Parts of him were still useless and bound up in bandages and oils to help them close up properly. Christian's right arm was bound to his chest to keep him from moving it too much, leaving him only with his non-prominent hand to try and get around with. With all this working against him, Chris was still able to force himself up onto his knees, getting to his feet again proved to a little more difficult.

With great persistence, Chris tried to hoist himself up on one leg, at least not falling the moment weight was applied, but the minute the second leg tried to do the same, Chris found himself back on the ground. As he lay there, quietly cursing and hissing his complaints, a thought occurred to the Aussie. Chris glanced up at the bed where Zea was still soundly asleep and the idea of getting him to help crossed Chris's mind. 

Intending to act on the idea, Chris reached towards Zea just to give him a little shake awake, but his hand fell short. As Chris looked at his brother's exhausted face, his gaze landed on the bandages that also clung to the smaller nation. Jett knew he'd gotten hurt again and re-injured his own leg in the last moments of the battle. Zea never did listen to Chris, and of course, he'd ignored the advice about keeping safe… Well, Christian should have expected no less. Chris withdrew his hand with a small sigh – he couldn't wake Toby, he couldn't further injure his brother.

Determined to do this without hurting another brother, Chris resumed his attempts to stand. It took about another five minutes, yet Chris managed to struggle his way to the door, where he promptly fell straight through it and back onto the floor. 

"Brilliant, Chris." He growled under his breath. "Now we're on the floor _outside_ the bloody room."

"Hey, kid, what are you doing?" Chris looked up in alarm when he heard someone's alarmed voice calling him and after a second, he recognised it.

"Prussia?" No sooner than the name left his lips, he was hoisted upright by said nation. A small hiss of discomfort left him as his realigning bones shifted painfully. Prussia mumbled a hasty apology, but still kept his hands on Chris. Probably to keep him from falling again. 

Chris took a second to look over Gilbert and was relieved to see that the albino appeared to be doing better than himself. Sure, he had a few patches here and there that showed his injuries were still present, and by the look of it, his shoulder was still a source of pain from when Russia had dislocated it. Chris was really running low on reasons not to punch Russia. However, Gilbert was doing alright and Chris was relieved to see that his little stunt on the battlefield with the boomerang had saved Prussia some unnecessary anguish. 

"Are you alright?" Gilbert asked, a frown on his usually grinning face. "What the hell are you doing out of bed? You're not ready yet, kid." Christian was abruptly reminded of his reason for trying to get moving on his own and Gilbert looked well enough to even run – he could get help from him!

"Gilbert!" Chris all but shouted, alarming the nation that held him upright. Chris clutched at Prussia's clothes with urgency, his eyes wild as he tried to get all the information out in a single breath. "Jett's gone, he's going up to the hill. He's going to see that guy, I mean, me…I mean--!"

"Hey, hey!" Prussia gripped Chris's shoulder's trying to calm the gushing nation down. "Slowly, one word at a time. What's wrong?" 

Chris shook his head in frustration, he couldn't explain everything about how he knew or how it worked – he'd wasted enough time struggling to get out of his bedroom to lose anymore. So, he said the one thing he was sure would get through to Prussia of all people. "He's going to vanish!"

Sure enough, Gilbert's red gaze hardened and his concern turned to a silent understanding and underlying determination that surprised Chris. Giving a single nod of understanding, Gilbert's harsh grip on Chris let up slightly but he looked no less serious.

"Where?" Gilbert asked calmly. "Where did he go?"

"To the hill, where England put the memorial." Chris said automatically. He knew his brother well, but he wouldn't have guessed that without their little link. 

"Memorial?" Gilbert frowned, again confused but quickly fixed his priorities. "Walk and talk." Prussia wasted no time, looping an arm around Chris and began walking, swiftly but not enough to trip Chris up as the Aussie gave directions.

 

…  
…  
...

 

Jett was cold. His body had started to become numb and sure enough, the icy grip that had started off as a simple chill had seized his legs. Each step he took was a stumble, another gamble that he'd actually keep the correct footing, and still Jett walked up the grassy hill. The sun had risen higher into the sky, not yet reaching midday, but only just entering the middle hours of the morning. It's warmth reached Jett's skin, going no further than that. It was as though the world around him had caught fire, but he was unable to feel even the slightest touch of warmth.

"Ha…" Jett let out a wheezy sigh of air, his teeth chatting a bit as they were freed momentarily from their clenched position. "I wonder if Russia feels like this all the time." Chuckling dryly at the somewhat depressing thought, Jett continued to slug his way through the grass.

He wondered what Russia would think when he found out Jett had left for good – Jett guessed he would be angry with him, for dying. Hopefully, Italy wouldn't cry. Japan would probably take it the most calmly – would Germany even notice his absence?

Trying not to allow his mind to wander from the task at hand, Jett looked up to see his destination growing closer. The stone grave that stood alone atop the hill looked just as it had the first day Jett had laid eyes on it. Naturally, the first time he'd seen it, Jett was surprised. A monument to that person in England? It almost seemed insulting, but ultimately Jett was glad for its existence though he'd never been brave enough to ask Arthur about it, fearing a bitter or resentful answer.

Despite the lack of feeling in his legs and gradual loss of warmth in his fingertips, Jett did not fall to the ground when he reached the grave. The simple stone marker was surrounded with wild grass and…flowers? It would not have been surprising, but they were no wild flowers. Neatly cut at the stems and laid down in a bouquet, were slowly wilting roses. Jett was confused when he saw them, but he had no time to ponder why they were lain at his friend's grave. Instead of stumbling and collapsing on his hands and knees, Jett stood panting slightly from the effort of the climb and smiled. His friend was here.

"You're finally here." The dark skinned male greeted Jett with a faint smile of his own. "You're a little late." Sitting atop his own memorial grave, the indigenous boy watched Jett with gentle eyes. He was at ease, sitting with one leg crossed over the grave and both hands resting on its curve as he leant forward slightly to peer at Jett.

"Yeah, I know." Jett admitted quietly, knowing he should have come hours earlier than he did, but he had not wanted to leave Arthur's side. A momentary quiet fell over both boys before finally Jett spoke again, his tone gentle and perhaps, a little bit strained by sadness.

"You still look the same." He noted quietly. "Still a brat." 

The two stared at one another a while longer before finally the native boy let out a small laugh and not a second later, Jett joined him in a soft chuckle.

"I'm sorry." Jett added as he took a step closer to the grave and its owner. "I did not mean to make you wait so long and all on your own. You must have been so lonely, I'm so sorry, I--"

"It's alright." His friend cut him off with a warm smile. "You're here now, nothing else matters. You're with me again, we can play – like old times."

"I've grown up." Jett replied sullenly. "I don't know if I can play like I did before. I'm no longer the boy you knew."

"Aren't you?" Chuckling quietly, as if enjoying a secret all his own, the boy closed his eyes and hummed thoughtfully. "But you see that can't be right because, I never left. You've always been the Jett I knew because I've been here throughout all your days, so many hundreds of days. Every single bitter day, the good, the bad and the sad. I never left your side, not for a second. I'm happy to see you've remained the boy I knew – stupid boy you were."

Jett had no words for that. Some part of him wanted to agree, to say he knew and that he'd just not been brave enough to interact with his friend, but the rest of him remained in doubt. Jett felt as though he had not been able to see his friend at all, even when people like Arthur could. On the battlefield, before Arthur's collapse he'd chided Jett for just that, for not seeing the spirit that always lingered just behind him, had scolded him for feeling alone at any point. Arthur had been as cruel as he was kind with those words and so Jett remained thankful.

"You died…" Jett murmured quietly, as though putting his friend's claims of happiness to nothing more than kind lies. 

"Did I? I don't think I did, not really." Leaning back slightly, the ghost looked towards the sky, the smile never leaving his face. "I watched you live, I watched him grow up and I saw the world we dreamed of be built bit by bit. I could not have asked for more than that." His friend finished thoughtfully. 

"But I--!" Jett choked as he spoke, barely able to stop himself form breaking down as the cold became more unbearable. "I made so many mistakes, I did so much wrong by you. E-Even today Christian does not know you properly; I stole your future and his past. I was cruel, I was stupid – I did horrendous things to your people all because we weren't the same, because I was intolerant and afraid." Pressing his hands to his face, Jett fell to his knees, unable to express his apology in words alone. "I took _everything_ from you!"

His country had apologised and continued to apologise for the wrongdoings of their ancestors, but Jett had never been able to apologise to the person standing before him now. A few seconds passed without a response before finally there was a quiet sigh from the other and soft words were spoken.

"You're wrong. We grew up together, not harmoniously but for the same goal – we loved our people and our land. I showed you the land and raised you by the hand until you were grown and you've returned the favour through Christian. So, do not be guilty any longer, I forgave everything long ago, thank you. Thank you for letting me grow up with you, for letting me grow up as your little brother."

Jett looked up abruptly only to see the indigenous boy smiling that special secret smile of his. "Christian may not be me anymore, but I have always and will always be with him. You've not killed my people, because they live on with Christian, I trusted them to you and I've never regretted that choice. You've created the Australia we dreamed of – it took many years and I'm sure it was painful, but you did it."

With that the boy hopped down off the rock, his teenaged body walking over to Jett who remained kneeling, frozen in place. "Thank you, for raising me with such care. For being the big brother I've always loved." Reaching out to Jett, the boy ran his fingers past Jett's already freezing flesh and into his hair. Holding Jett gently, he hugged the kneeling nation to his chest, still smiling as he continued.

"But it's all over now, you don't need to fight anymore. You've started righting the wrongs of our past and now, Christian will continue that legacy. So, please leave it behind and come away with me." Whispering to Jett, the boy hugged him soothingly, fully aware that with every touch and every word – he killed a bit more of his best friend. "Until somehow your heart can warm again, I will keep you here with me, away from all pain, all sorrow. Anything that wishes to harm you, I will take away. All you must do is stay with me – forever."

The tension from Jett's body left him and slowly his arms wrapped around the other, accepting that fate willingly. He welcomed death in the form of his childhood friend without fear or resistance. "To your feet, Jett." The boy instructed. "You held me when I died, I wish to give you a kinder parting." He did as he was told, clumsily rising to his feet while looking at the other's smiling face. "We'll go this way together, no need for a painful departure."

Jett smiled as well, tears stinging the corners of his eyes, though he hastily rubbed them away. "Yeah, together." He agreed, his voice thick with unshed tears. He reached to take the ghost's hand and leave this worl—

" **Jett**!"

Both ghost and barely living nation jumped at the sound of the Australian's name being roared, even with ice locking up his joints and hindering motion, Jett turned in alarm towards the sound and immediately tensed when he saw who had found him.

"W-What are you two doing here?" Jett demanded, looking at Prussia and his brother in panic. "You shouldn't be out of bed, Christian!" Jett barked, horrified to see his heavily bandaged brother standing. Admittedly, he needed Prussia's assistance to achieve that feat.

By his back, Jett did not see the surprised etched into the ghost nation's face and the frustration. He wanted Jett to fully be conscious when taking his hand, so that in no way could it be considered murder, but their deal had been interrupted by the two unexpected arrivals.

"I didn't expect you to get this far so quickly." The indigenous boy admitted quietly while looking at his living body, finding it unusual that he's prediction had been incorrect. He'd been sure Chris would only get here when it was far too late and Jett was already too far gone for saving. He had not expected him to have assistance.

"Jett!" Chris barked his name this time, his shout not holding nearly as much force at Prussia's, but it was no less desperate. "What are you thinking? Get away from there!"

Those words rang hollow in Jett's ears though they did seem familiar, as though he'd heard them shouted like that before and immediately he knew what to say next – finally, someone was following the script.

"N-No." Jett spoke hopefully. "This is good. I…I can say goodbye properly like this. Y-You know, before I forget." Jett chuckled, almost nervous as he spoke in a small voice.

"Goodbye?" Jett was taken aback by the way Gilbert hissed the word and he watched in puzzlement as Prussia gently set Chris down on the ground and began to make his way towards Jett.

"W-Well, of course." Jett continued. "I'm entrusting Australia to you now – I'm sorry but I--!"

"What the fuck is that about!?"

 _Thwack_!

Jett barely saw it coming. Prussia had stalked straight up to him, and without hesitation, punched him square in the jaw. Stumbling back, shock written all over his face, Jett slapped a hand over the cheek Gilbert's had struck, however, Gilbert wasn't through with him. Reaching forward the Prussian grabbed a fistful of Jett's shirt and yanked him forward violently, his eyes ablaze with a rage Jett had not seen before. Not only anger, but fear. Unadulterated terror. It was the type of dread that Jett had only seen a few times, the fear of losing something dear.

"You think you have that fucking right?" Prussia shouted in Jett's face, giving the younger nation a furious shake as he did. "You think you can just pack up your bags and say you're through? You don't get to make that call, _mate_!" 

"W-What are you--?" Jett tried to speak, but Gilbert wasn't giving him any mercy and another rough shake was in order.

"Nein! You don't get to decide when it's over, you can't just pass all the work onto your little bruder and leave him for dead." Prussia's grip tightened and Jett saw how his teeth started to grind i-between furious outbursts. "Don't you get it, you dense idiot? You can't just run away from this!"

Jett tensed at those words. "Run away…?" He wasn't running away! He was just accepting how things had to be.

"Don't fucking deny it. You can't escape by dying; you can't just run away because it's painful. You can't give up just because you're scared or you think nothing will ever be good enough! This self-sacrifice bit is bullshit!" Gilbert continued to shout, barely letting Jett get a word in. "You think because you give yourself up you'll somehow be saving someone – saving your little bruder? Huh?"

"S-Sto--!" Not a single word in edgeways.

"Nein! You listen to _me_ now!" Prussia demanded furiously. "The only people you're hurting with this self-sacrifice crap are the ones you leave behind." Every word Gilbert said cut into Jett, causing his body to begin trembling and his eyes to burn with the threat of tears. "Your allies, your friends, your bruders and mein, too! They're the ones you'll hurt with this." Gilbert gritted his teeth angrily. "I won't let you escape!"

"Shut up…" He didn't want to hear this, he didn't want to be told the truth that was right in front of him.

"They're the ones that have to live with the loss, the pain, the burden left behind by your selfishness! You can't hide from your responsibilities, you can't just forget everything because it's painful to remember, and hiding behind ignorance is no way to be forgiven. I will never forget. No matter what – I won't die, I won't run away and I'll be damned if I let you do any different!"

"No…"

"Death is easy, but you know what? Living is fucking hard and your bruders don't need it to be harder all because you're running away! You can't go your own way and leave others behind. We can't die because we're needed, because we are loved by others!"

"I said shut up!" Jett shouted back, reaching up to grab hold of Gilbert's wrists to try and pry them away from his shirt. However, the moment his flesh connected with the albino's – it burned him. Crying out in pain at the heat, Jett let go of Prussia but thankfully the struggling forced Gilbert to let go as well, allowing Jett to stumble back and cradle his burning hand.

"It hurts." Confused and frightened, Jett looked up at Gilbert and away from his now warm hand. Gilbert's red eyes regarded him with an emotion he couldn't quite place; it was almost sad and just a little bit desperate. 

"Of course it does." Gilbert answered flatly, no longer shouting but speaking gently to Jett. "Living always does." He took a step forward and Jett took a stumbling step back.  

"D-Don't!" Jett shouted, panicking for fear that Gilbert's touch would scorch him again. "Don't come near me, Gilbert! You fucking listen to me!"

"Nein." He answered flatly and with a sudden thrust forward, he lashed out to grab at Jett. Foolishly, the cold Australian raised his arms to shield himself and Gilbert latched onto the wrist of the hand that had already been burned. Initially, the reaction was the same and Jett howled in pain while Gilbert's voice rose over his agonised cry and demanded Jett's attention. 

"Listen, Jett, _listen_!" He ordered loudly. "You feel this? This is proof you're not gone yet, you're still alive!"

"It fucking hurts, you bastard!" Jett shouted back in protest. "Stop it!"

"Damn it, Jett, listen! This is proof that we're friends!" Those words caused Jett to stop struggling. His green, tear-filled eyes locked with Gilbert's firm crimson gaze. "This is proof you're alive, proof that we're friends. You're not gone yet, you can't turn cold yet." He repeated more slowly now that Jett was no longer thrashing about. "Just look, you idiot."

Jett's gaze dropped to the arm that Gilbert held and to his surprise, he could physically see what he meant. The place around where Prussia held him was normal, white skin. Despite this, as his eyes continued up his arm Jett felt his heart stop. The cold that had so unnaturally taken hold of his body had physically warped him. His skin almost appeared translucent and what form he could make out of it was a deathly ashen colour.

"You can't run away." Gilbert told him, almost whispering now. "Not now, not like this. Not when everyone is only just starting. Jett, your friends are waiting for you back home. Life is waiting for you. It will hurt, it will be hard and I know it'll be boring as all sin sometimes, but you can't leave us like this." Gilbert's grip pulled Jett forward roughly, arms wrapping around him tightly. "I won't let my friend disappear, I'm too awesome to let anyone die on my watch. So, stop making it difficult and do what I say…just this once do what I tell you to – just this once listen to your friend. Everyone is waiting back home."

"Everyone?" Jett repeated, barely able to comprehend the idea, but the moment the word left his mouth, a hot flash seared at the back of his head – bursting into a bright light in his mind and he saw the only thing in the world that mattered.

Italy's smile popped up in his vision, alongside Japan's polite chuckle from the times they spent playing games and having sleepovers.

Russia's far away smile came next, followed quickly by a frown he never showed and the tears he could not shed.

America and Canada laughing came into his head, his childhood brothers reminding Jett of happy days.

While in the background, Chris and Zea argued like usual – their familiar banter ringing a cord in his heart.

Germany's flustered, irritated face came into view but even as he glared into the distance, he was offering out his hand for Jett to take.

Finally, Arthur's gentle smile and outstretched hand appeared. " _Lets go home, Jack_." He spoke warmly and suddenly Jett's eyes were open again.

Gilbert watched him, as if reading what he'd envisioned and then the Prussian's face split into a familiar grin. "Jeez, you're so slow. When are you going to understand we're not letting you go anywhere? Haha, you belong to us now." Gilbert held him at arm's length and continued to smile that big old grin of his, but he looked like he was ready to cry. "Let's go home, you idiot."

Like a cure had spread through his body, the sickly shade of his skin receded and was replaced with his regular living flesh and suddenly, the icy cold that had gripped him was erased and replaced with a familiar gentle warmth. He was alive, his body wasn't fading or turning to ice anymore. "But why…--?"

"Until your heart warms." Jett looked over his shoulder at the ghost of his native friend. "Until somehow your heart warms. That was the condition to our deal. I had not realised…that there was no need for it." Smiling, the native boy walked to Jett and looked between he and Prussia. Almost immediately Gilbert jerked Jett away, scowling at the apparition with distrust, the boy only laughed.

"When you turned cold, I thought it was because you hated so much, always so spiteful. I was sure time would mend your anger, however…time seems to have nothing to do with it. The source of your warmth, the thing that makes you Jett, is right here." The boy pointed to Jett's chest and grinned. "You always were so cliché, Jett."

"Brat…" Jett scoffed back, but he couldn't bite back his own smile.

The ghost glanced to Prussia and then to Chris. "Take him." He announced finally. "Take this fool home and show him how to live properly." With that, he turned away and began to walk back to his grave.

"But!" The ghost paused at Jett's voice calling him. "Y-You'll be alone again. I can't…I can't do that. Not to you, not again."

"Then don't." The boy glanced over his shoulder and smiled that familiar bright smile. "Take care of me. Raise me well and keep watching out for me. I couldn't have asked for a more loving brother and I couldn't have chosen a better best friend." 

Grinning as he went, Jett's friend finished with a parting comment. "Wear your tears with pride and don't stop smiling. When it's time, I'll come and see you – in the summertime."

Piece by piece the ghost began to fade, little parts of his body breaking off and dissolving into glittering dust in the air. "This isn't goodbye. It's just 'till next time'!"

Jett began to cry, his tears shamelessly spilling from his eyes, but even as the bitter tears rolled down his face, he smiled happily – even laughing as he did. "It hurts. Being loved."

"Always does." Gilbert agreed with a smile of his own and, although the awesome Prussia would never admit to it, his own eyes were filling with salty tears. "It'll hurt more when Arthur gets his hands on you." Both nations laughed and remained with one arm over the other's shoulder, not willing to let go just yet for fear it might somehow cause the other to break down.

Behind the two, sitting in the grass where he'd been set down so carefully – Chris smiled slightly. He was that ghost and that boy was him. Pressing his hand to his chest, Chris quietly spoke to himself. "There's no need for you to ask again." He said gently – knowing that the boy would never truly be gone, he'd remain by his side for eternity and maybe he'd never be seen again – it didn't matter, they were one in the same, after all. "I will keep it alive and stay by his side – I am Australia and he is my brother. We are the Australian spirit."

" _Good answer_." Christian swore he heard the phrase on the wind and he smiled. Laughing to himself, Chris rubbed away sweet tears. "Leave it all up to me."

It was not long after that the three were found by an understandably angry Scotsman. However, he was surprised to find all three happily laughing together. Nevertheless, his surprise only spared them his fist for so long.

 

…  
…  
…

 

_Service to the Crown._

 

"Where have you been?" They'd barely taken their first step back into the house when a frantic Englishman threw himself at them. Jett stumbled back a few steps, almost landing on his ass as Arthur slammed into him and clutched his little brother tightly like a terrified mother. Damn near having the life squeezed out of him, Jett laughed and hugged Arthur back, trying to reassure the panicked male.

Once Arthur had established Jett was alive, he moved onto each of the other boys – even Prussia. Squishing Chris's face in his hands as he looked at each one frantically making sure they were all there. Finally, reassured he'd lost no one, Arthur began to belt all three, slapping them wildly while ranting.

"Don't you bloody well scare me like that ever again!" He shouted while the three shielded their already considerably damaged bodies from the surprisingly soft blows. "I was frantic, I thought you'd died! You could have, oh god, what if you'd died? What were you thinking?" He demanded, his clumsy shouting becoming more and more unhinged as Arthur began to sob as well as scold. "I thought you were… I thought…-- _Hic_. I thought you had--"

As Arthur began to break down completely, Jett wrapped his older brother up in a quick bear hug, allowing Arthur to weakly beat against Jett's back as he cried. Arthur always had been an odd mix of angry and sad. Slowly, his hits stopped and instead he clung to Jett tightly, sniffling into his chest.

"I'm sorry." Whispering those words repeatedly to Arthur, Jett tried to soothe the older nation. "I won't do it again." 

Gilbert let out a little huff with an amused smile as he watched the two. Christian was still leaning on him for support, but the younger Aussie's mood had lifted considerably as well. Behind the two, Alistair gave an agitated sigh and walked past them, he'd all but dragged the three home by their ears, growling his own profanities as they went. Gilbert wasn't even family and he'd not been spared the Scotsman's wrath.

"How did you two get out?" Jett asked curiously when Arthur seemed calm enough to speak. "Ah…sorry about that." He added clumsily. "For the whole…locking you in thing."

"That's the least you have to be sorry for!" Arthur snapped furiously. "Toby has been spitting curses since he woke up and Wales is having a hard time consoling him."

Jett frowned, knowing Zea would be terrified, thinking he'd lost two brothers. He acted like it didn't matter to him, but he was always quick to jump to their defense or help out in some way. "We'll go see him." Jett spoke calmly to Arthur, still reasoning with him to keep his big brother calm.

"You ought ta go see those allies o' yours too." Alistair added in discontented grunt as he lit up another cigarette. "They've been almost as troublesome as wee Toby."

"Allies?" Jett frowned, realising who he meant. Of course they'd be worried, he'd left their tickets under the door in his hasty escape and news spread fast around these parts. Actually, Jett had only passed two under the door, one for Italy and the second for Japan. Jett kept the other two on his person – he hadn't been ready to give them to the others.

"Nonsense!" Arthur yelped, holding Jett more firmly. "He's not going anywhere near that lot. Not after what they did."

"Easy, mum." Jett sighed and spoke gently, knowing Arthur was just scared. "It's all on me, alright? They're clean."

"And I suppose you're going to tell me the same for Germany and Russia?" Arthur bit back, causing Jett to hesitate. That hesitation was enough to Arthur. "See? You're not going anywhere near them."

"Do ya have ta be such a pansy _all_ the time, Artie?" Alistair asked with a raised eyebrow, getting a scathing glare from Arthur.

"Oh? And I suppose _you_ are going to let him see Germany?" Arthur demanded sharply and Alistair made a terribly rude scoffing sound – a definite no.

"Still don't hafta be a complete twat 'bout it." He answered flatly, but ultimately the answer was still no. And to be frank, Jett didn't mind either, he didn't feel up to facing any of his old allies – especially not Germany.

"Then it's settled. Christian, to bed with you – Toby must be worried sick. Jett, you need your rest as well but first we have to finish one last line of business." At those words, Jett frowned and tensed. Arthur chuckled at his anxious expression. "Her majesty requested you be brought to her once this silly affair was brought to a close. She's asked for you now and don't you dare think about running this time."

"But the last time I saw your queen she was still just a little Shelia!" Jett protested. "I-I wouldn't know what to say. I mean…I'd only embarrass you."

"Hmpf, nice try, young man, but you're not weaseling out of this one. Now march!" Arthur demanded, holding onto Jett's arm as he led him away from Christian and Gilbert. Jett glanced over his shoulder in a pleading look, but both males seemed to be laughing at him – what happened to their friendship is magic moment on the hill, huh?

As the two traitors fell out of sight, Jett was left with one hand being held by Arthur and a silent walk down the halls. As they walked in silence, Jett noticed that Arthur's hand was trembling just slightly as it firmly grasped his own. Smiling faintly, he gave Arthur's hand a small squeeze, trying to quietly comfort his brother so that he could save face. Arthur hesitated when he felt the small gesture.

"Why did you run?" He asked finally, his once hasty steps slowing as they went. "What were you thinking?"

"I was scared." Jett answered honestly, without hesitation. His answer caused Arthur to stop walking all together and turn back to look at his little brother, surprised to see the small smile on the Aussie's face. "I thought it would be better if everyone forgot about all this, about me. That way no one would need to be hur--!"

Arthur hugged Jett tightly, effectively silencing anything he was about to say. "You stupid, stupid boy." He scolded angrily while squeezing his brother tightly. "How could you think that was alright? How could you for even a second believe I'd be happier without knowing you – that anyone could be? You're such a foolish boy!"

"I know, I'm sorry." Jett apologised gently. "I know better now. I'll have the bruise to prove it later." He chuckled, rubbing his jaw where Gilbert had punched him. Finally, Arthur released Jett and took a small step away, his hand still holding Jett's.

"It scares me." He spoke honestly. "To think of what might have happened if Prussia and Christian had not reached you."

"Hm, yeah. It scares me as well." Jett agreed quietly, but he knew what would have happened. In his head, he'd known that he would have been just like his friend – watching quietly, only able to reach out to others when they were nearing their breaking point. He would have been dead and slowly but surely forgotten.

"Arthur?" Jett's questioning tone caught the Englishman off by guard and he noticed the Australian's face forming into an uncertain frown. "Why did you make it? The memorial…"

 

At this question Arthur tensed, knowing Jett had found the grave long ago but had never been bold enough to ask. Yet still, the tension left his body soon after and Arthur smiled with a soft sigh. "That memorial was made the day after I returned home from Australia." He admitted quietly, surprising Jett.

 

"I know the things I had done to you were horrendous and lead to this disaster, but at the time they felt justified. However - I knew of loss, I knew how it must have hurt to lose even someone that – at that time – I considered irrelevant. So, I placed a simple cross on a hill in honour of his death, although when I did, I still lacked regret."

"Then, over time I began to see the boy." Arthur's brows furrowed. "He was always right there, with Christian and yourself but neither of you seemed to notice him. By this time you'd come to hate me and I was sure that boy would also glare at me – but he always smiled and waved when my eye caught him. I felt regret more strongly than I had in many years and also a sense of forgiveness from that person – I felt I had to do at least some small act of repentance. So, I returned to the wooden cross I'd made and replaced it with a proper gravestone."

"When I…" Jett took a deep breath, for fear his voice would fail him. "When I was at the grave, there were old flowers. Roses. Did…did you…?"

"Yes." Arthur answered calmly. "I made it a habit to go up to that place and lay down flowers."

"Why? For someone you never even cared for." Jett looked grief-stricken, thinking about what his brother had been doing for so many years without telling him.

"I made the grave for him and I brought the flowers because every time I did, I'd see that boy again and he'd smile at me without fail. But the reason I kept going back, time and time again, was because I had to ask the boy to do me a favour. Me, who had taken everything from him in every form I could think of – was still selfish enough to ask a favour of a dead boy." Arthur laughed, the sound bitter but also amused by his own cruel actions.

"And the strangest thing is that he fulfilled my request, time and time again. Every year I'd go up to that hill, lay down the flowers and pray that he would stay with you and every single time, he agreed with a smile." Arthur gave a smile of his own. "I'm sure I never even had to ask, but it gave me some peace of mind to know that you were never alone."

Jett was silent, staring at his brother with wide eyes. He had no idea what to say, no way of conveying how incredibly happy Arthur's words had made him.

"Come now." Arthur straightened himself, clearing his throat so he looked a little more composed. "You mustn't keep her majesty waiting." As he spoke, Arthur began to straighten Jett's clothes, and brush back his hair – a mother fretting over a messy child. When he pushed back Jett's bangs, Arthur had frowned at the scratches that Jett had inflicted on himself still making the Englishman's heart ache. 

"They will heal." Jett consoled him gently. 

"As will mine." Arthur responded, touching the eye patch that sat over the place Jett had slashed. Jett frowned when being reminded of what he'd done, but Arthur only chuckled gently. "There's no need for guilt, Jett. I will be able to see again, I assure you and when I can, it will be good to look on you with both eyes."

"You sound like I've gone away for a long time." Jett smirked faintly. "Did I grow up too fast, old man?"

"Entirely too fast. But then again, you lot always do." Arthur agreed seriously. "But, it doesn't dishearten me anymore. I could not be prouder of you or your brothers." As he spoke, Arthur finished brushing off Jett's shoulders and removing any unsightly wrinkles. "Even that fat oaf America deserves some praise."

"Don't force yourself, mum. You'll cough up blood again." For that comment, he got a quick smack on the shoulder.

"Do not even think of using that tone with my dear lady when you're in there." Arthur warned firmly before frowning anxiously. "I do not know what she wants with you, please do behave."

Jett didn't speak, he just gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Of all the people in the world he wished not to offend – Arthur's lady was pretty high up on the list. Smiling in relief, Arthur gave Jett's clothes one last quick adjustment before stepping back. "Head high, shoulders straight and tongue held. Alright, Jett?" This time Jett snorted in amusement before nodding. "There's a good lad. Mind your manners and don't do anything reckless."

"It's like you don't know me at all, Artie." Jett snickered, getting another little slap from Arthur. "I'll behave." He promised more seriously before turning to look at the door they stood in front of. He knew Arthur's house very well and he also knew he was never allowed into this room before – it was reserved for Arthur's fair lady.

"She's expecting you, head in whenever you're ready."

Jett risked an uncertain glance back at his big brother and Arthur gave him an encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Jett placed a hand against the door and with a gentle push, it swung in without so much as a creak and Jett let himself inside. 

The room was lit solely by the large, open windows that flanked the opposite end of the luxurious room. The curtains lazily drifted in the slight breeze that passed through the windows and although the room had no light turned on, there was no inch of the room not filled with warm light. Paintings adorned the gently patterned walls and while everything in the room appeared relaxed and gently in nature – Jett knew it would be expensive so he dared not touch a thing. He even felt uneasy walking on the decorated carpet patterns as he walked inside, with the door closing shut with a quiet click behind him. By the open windows, there was a single armchair and Jett could just see a hand gently resting on the chair's arm. 

Without a word from the chair's occupant, Jett bowed low at the waist and stepped down onto one knee, with one hand planted firmly over his heart in a familiar pose he was required to take when in the presence of this woman. She had been a mere child when Arthur first presented Jett before her, but the actions he'd taken on that day were still firmly imprinted in his mind.

"My dear boy." Jett closed his eyes, cringing slightly when the female's voice reached him, she did not speak harshly but he flinched all the same. "You've caused us a considerable amount of grief."

"I am sorry, your Majesty." Jett spoke smoothly, none of his usual harshness to be found as he tried to remember the proper way to address the woman before him – surely Arthur had forced it into his thick skull enough times by now. "I understand the severity of what I have done, I will accept whatever punishment you see as fit without argument."

The sound of the woman's body lifting from the chair sounded in Jett's ears and the hand that propped him up on the ground clenched. He couldn't help but worry about her – he had not wanted her to make the effort of standing. Funny how similar a thought he had to Arthur. Still, he remained silent, head bowed and completely docile as she approached – the fair lady's gentle footfalls sounding soft as she neared the kneeling nation. 

"You have wounded my nation." She spoke calmly though the words caused Jett's head to lower further. "However, his sight will return in time and the wounds sustained in battle will fade. I am quite sure you, as a former nation understands that injuries such as this mean little." Jett wasn't sure why she was saying such things, it almost sounded as if she were lessening the weight of his crime. "It is the wounds inflicted on a nation's heart and mind that remain. You have maimed him in this way, just as he did maim you long ago."

"I am aware, your Majesty." Jett murmured sullenly. "I have never regretted my actions more than I do now."

"I believe you do." Jett's eyes opened in surprise when the tone of the woman's voice almost seemed to hold a smile. "My dear boy, look up at me." She instructed. "Let me see your face."

Jett obliged without complaint, though he wished she would not look onto his face. As he turned his gaze up towards the woman he was surprised to see – she looked the same. Decades had passed and humans aged quickly, she was no exception and yet when Jett looked up at her – she looked no different to the day he first laid eyes on her. Reaching out with both hands, the fair lady gently cupped his face, ever mindful of his injuries. 

"You've changed since we first met." She noted with a delicate chuckle.

"That cannot be, my dear Lady." Jett responded quietly. "I cannot change as a human can."

"Nonsense. It's your eyes that show you have changed." She chided him gently. "The day we met, you had such hate in those eyes, so much remorse and guilt. They were sad eyes but today, where you stand before me now – your eyes are kind." Smiling faintly, the fair lady withdrew her hands and left Jett staring up at her.

"I had wanted to see them again. To see what may have become of such hateful eyes – I am very pleased to see you as you are now." Her eyes sparkled, just as they had when Jett had met her in her youth.

 "My Lady…?" Jett didn't know what to think, the things that the woman was speaking both warmed his heart and confused him. 

"You've been such a foolish boy." She chuckled lightly. "Such a marvellously foolish child. However, you raised him well."

"Christian?" Jett gulped, afraid of how casually Chris would have spoken to this woman if they had met. Obviously, they had because again she laughed.

"A very bright boy, a kind nation. You have done well to raise him as you did, Sir Jack Kirkland." Jett frowned at his old name, but did not correct her. The name no longer caused him to feel angry or sad – it was just another part of history now.

"My Lady. I do not understand. What is to be my punishment?" Jett was worried, afraid of what he'd hear. He had been ready to die on that hill, but now he was no longer so ready to embrace death. Jett didn't want to go.

"Ah, yes." She sighed heavily when reminded. "You've behaved so poorly, punishment is in order. Jack Kirkland, for this kind of wrongdoing I feel it is only just that you are stripped of your title as a nation and given a service to commit to."

"Service?" Jett was taken aback by her suggestion. He hadn't exactly picture himself painting over graffiti for punishment. Though, the loss of title…that he'd been expecting with anxiety.

Amused, she continued. "Jack Kirkland, you are to be charged with the safekeeping of the island nation Australia." Jett's eyes widened as he caught on to what she was doing – relief and gratitude filling his heart. "Watch over him, protect him and keep him company for the rest of your days. You are no longer a nation, but you shall be charged with the task of guarding the young nation Australia – the boy, Christian Kirkland, will be your responsibility. You are not to leave his side for any temptation or selfish desire, you will – for the rest of your days – protect the boy. Have I made myself clear?"

Jett's head was bowed again, a smile lighting up his face as he did. "Yes, ma'am, as you wish." Jett realised now why she had been smiling – she had not changed at all, still just as kind and wily as he recalled. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Now, my dear boy – I believe your elder brother is anxiously waiting on you. Away with you." Jett glanced out of the corner of his eyes towards the doors, they both knew Arthur would be losing his mind with worry. Jett laughed quietly and slowly stood from his kneeling position. As he did his hands were gently grabbed by her Majesty and he saw that kind smile on her face again. "Take care this time, Jett Kirkland. Should I see you again before I am gone – I hope it to be under better circumstances."

Taking hold of her hands in his own – knowing Arthur would be appalled by the informal gesture. "My fair Lady, I will only appear before you again when it is to bring good news or company. I have missed you." He admitted gently. "But, I am relieved to say you have not changed at all since the day we met. Remain perfect like this forever." With one hand, he lifted his dear Lady's hand to his lips and gave it a single kiss and smile.

"If only you could be so tender with my darling nation." She mused with a soft chortle.

"If I were, I'm sure he'd only shout at me." Jett smirked slightly before gently releasing her hand and stepping away. "I hope to see you again soon." With a quiet goodbye, he slipped out the door and shut it as gently as possible, a smile still on his face.

Humans were truly marvellous. They lived long lives and did horrid things, but at the end of the day, Jett was always relieved to see just what he was doing it for. That woman behind the wooden door was truly someone he'd always remember – humans were marvellous and they left the sweetest scars in a nation.

Sighing with a small smile, Jett turned away from the door and was faced with an anxious Arthur.

"W-Well?" He demanded. "What happened?"

Jett paused to think about that before smirking slyly. Without explanation, he took Arthur's hand and just as he had done moments before, kissed the top of his palm. As expected, Arthur turned bright red and Jett snickered wickedly. She had told him to try treating Arthur kindly, so why not? 

"Y-You bloody idiot! What's gotten into you?" Jett only laughed harder. Yes, everything was fine just like this. Jett finally felt at ease.

This was what it felt like to be home.

 

…  
…  
…

 

_With Friends Like These._

_Some months later._

 

" _Chris_!" Yelping in alarm as his name was roared over the sound of cries of alarm and surprisingly feminine squeals coming from Francis, Chris dropped the snake he'd brought in to show everyone today.

"Jett!" Arthur barked at the Australian nation's babysitter. "Control your wildlife and control your little brother!" Christian struggled to hold in his laughter as he watched the blood rush to the Englishman's face, what stifled his laughter immediately was the sound of angry footsteps walking his way. Flinching to himself, as a pair of angry green eyes appeared next to him, Chris tried to smile up at Jett, hoping it would calm his big brother enough not to get hit.

"Christian." He seethed, the words quiet with thinly veiled anger. "What did we say about brining pets to work?"

"B-But…" Chris tried to defend his chosen pet for show and tell. "She's harmless, I promise." Hissing in displeasure, Navi curled around Christian's feet – annoyed that she'd been dropped by her country of origin.

"No buts!" Jett snapped back, hands slamming down flat on the table they had all gathered around for political discussions – discussions that no longer applied to Jett. "Take Navi—Ah, I mean, take the snake outside." Chris smiled brightly, his big brother acted angry but he knew the name of all their pets off by heart and knew it was Navi on sight, that alone was enough for Christian to smile as he picked his snake up gently. "Put her in the green house till we're ready to go. Better yet, give 'er here."

Standing straight, Jett reached out with both hands and waited expectantly for Chris to relinquish his pet of the day. Reluctantly, the younger Australian did as was expected and gingerly handed Navi over, looking sullen at the loss of the only interesting part of the meeting. With the snake in his possession, Jett turned to give Chris a scolding glare and pointed back to the meeting table. 

"Right. You. Sit." Jett pointed to Christian's chair with a scowl. "Work. I don't want you to make any more problems until I get back."

"So, when you get back I can--?" Chris piped up excitedly.

"Not on your life, mate." Jett barked back at his brother as he walked away from the meeting room with Navi nestled in his arms. He kept marching until he reached the door and slammed it behind him, only once he was out of the sight of the other nations did he let out a heavy sigh.

A curious snake raised its head to peer up at the tired nation, only to see he was smiling and looked fairly amused. "Navi, girl, did you get into Chris's pocket again?" He asked, Jett's voice becoming gently and close to adoring as he pat the snake's head, affectionate now that he was out of sight. "Or did the cheeky brat put you there?" 

If snakes could purr, Navi was definitely doing it. Nuzzling against the elder Aussie, the snake coiled around his arm and neck happily. Jett continued to walk down the hall, more than happy to let Navi make herself comfortable as a scarf. "Well, at least you guys still recognise me." Jett mused with a quiet chuckle. It was both a great weight off his shoulders and a terrible loss to Jett, no longer being a nation.

The meeting had taken place in Arthur's house again, something that would have sent Jett running in the past. Now, he was more than happy to make the trip to England with Chris and see their big brother again. Just as Jett had promised, he never left Christian's side. Even though he was no longer a nation and had no need for the gatherings, he stayed as a bodyguard and babysitter to the island nation Australia. Good thing, too, considering how many times he had to get Chris out of trouble and back on track.

Actually, the only real draw back to going to these meetings was…-- A pair of cold violet eyes flashed into Jett's mind, making him quickly shake his head to rid himself of the image. Yeah, those eyes being on him during the meetings did cause Jett a little bit of grief. Putting those thoughts aside, Jett made his way to the backyard, taking a glance at Arthur's garden. The roses looked beautiful as always – his big brother took such care with his gardens, something Jett could never commit to. The weeds had free reign in his yard.

 Walking through the carefully crafted paths between the flowerbeds, Jett found his way to the greenhouse. Polished to perfection with the loveliest plants Jett had ever seen, the green house held far more vibrant colours than just green. Flowers of all sorts were cautiously potted around the enclosure. Stepping inside, Jett took a quick glance around, looking for the best place to put Navi down. It didn't take long for him to find a perfect place. Out of the way with a direct line of sunlight, Jett was able to put the snake down on a rock. "There you are." He breathed, satisfied with his choice. "Stay here and soak up some sun. Lord knows that it's too cold here for you."

With Navi happily curling up on the rock, Jett took a moment to glance around the greenhouse at all the wonderfully coloured flowers. Looking at them all, Jett felt almost self-conscious. His flowers could be beautiful as well, but Jett had always found more solace in harsher plants. Thinking of his usual colour pallet, Jett found most of his world was made up of brown, grey, green and at times, maybe a little bit of yellow. 

"There's nothing wrong with my flora." Jett defended his country to the only one that would listen, Navi. "It's just a little bit tough, is all. But that's good! We breed tough trees in Australia! Arthur's flowers couldn't hope to survive our climate." His defence had quickly turned into self-praise. He was no longer Australia, but he was still as patriotic and prideful as always.

Jett had been smiling at the snake he'd placed down on the inside garden, but a soft chuckle startled him. Navi wasn't known to laugh and Jett – for all his love of animals – wasn't known for speaking to them. More importantly, Jett knew that voice. "Australia breeds rough people, too."

Startled and admittedly a little bit scared, Jett whipped around to get a look at the person who had laughed. However, the second he began to move, a set of large hands grasped him by his shoulders and shoved him back. Jett let out an undignified shout of alarm, followed quickly by a groan of pain as his back hit the glass wall behind him. Briefly, fear flashed through Jett's mind, worrying he'd break Arthur's green house. He tried to push away from the glass, but the same hands that had pushed him in the first place were then used to slam him back against the glass. 

Grunting when his head was forcibly pushed against the glass and his shoulder pressed back painfully, Jett grit his teeth and managed to open one eye to glare at the offender.

"Russia." Snarling the country's name, Jett scowled at the familiar smiling face that looked down at him.

"It is not good to be looking at Ivan like that." Ivan's voice sounded sweet and childish, sending a familiar shiver down Jett's spine. "Is not a good look." Jett grit his teeth, biting back a sound of pain as he was pushed back harder into the glass. The distant sound of cracking reached Jett's ears and his eyes snapped wide open.

"Let go!" He gasped out, finding it hard to speak as he was crushed against the now scarily fragile seeming glass.

"Why?" Ivan asked innocently. "Afraid you might break something belonging to England?"

Jett could barely breathe as he was pushed more violently into the glass. The cracking noise became louder and Jett could even feel a few fractures begin to form in the glass where his shoulder was shoved up against it too hard. "I..van!"

The pressure lessened slightly when Jett was able to choke out the other's human name. The threat of the glass giving way lowered and Jett opened his eyes again. Ivan was still smiling but now his eyes were open, regarding Jett with the same stare that he'd been avoiding in every meeting. 

For a few seconds they remained like that, staring at one another with their own version of hostility. Finally, Jett had enough and tried to push Ivan away from him. As he slammed both hands flat against the Russian's chest, Jett's head was released only for both his wrists to be caught and pushed up against the glass instead. The pinching of Jett's skin around his wrists was agitating, but what really hurt was the ache of his bones beginning to strain as Ivan twisted his hands in the wrong direction. Jett was accustom to roughhousing with Alfred and while neither of them tried to hurt one another, he knew how strong his former brother was and Ivan rivaled Alfred's strength, perhaps surpassing it in human stature.

"You're a very bad child." Ivan chimed gleefully, watching as the other's face contorted in pain with every inch he pushed Jett's smaller hands. Ivan's smile remained but his eyes narrowed slightly, becoming icy as they regarded the writhing male. "Like this you can't run away from Ivan." He mused, even his smile becoming malicious as he spoke.

"..Fuck y..ou!" Jett snarled before cringing as his left hand damn near broke. Jett had no doubt that Ivan could simply give his wrist another twist and the bone would give away.

"Such a bad child…" Ivan repeated quietly before leaning in close to the trapped male, his expression inquisitive now. "Why does little Jett avoid Ivan so much?" He asked curiously. "It's been almost a year now and Jett hasn't come to see Ivan once. Why is that I wonder?"

"Don't be fucking cute." Jett spat furiously. "You know damn well why I've been avoiding you. You tried to kill my brother!"

"Is that all?" Ivan giggled. "Is that why you've been hiding from me? Ivan thought he'd done something to hurt Jett."

"What?" Jett couldn't fathom what went on in the Russian's head. "Are you deaf? You tried to _kill_ my baby brother!" Ivan didn't speak and Jett was more than happy to keep filing the empty space with his ranting. "Don't you get it? Christian is my family, he's my brother – Chris is fucking _everything_ to me!" 

Jett caught a brief glance of Ivan's face and watched as his smile vanished before a sharp _'crack'_ sounded close by his ear. "A-Argh!" Jett's head tipped up and he let out a strangled shout of pain, Ivan's hand had snapped something in his wrist. However, the second Jett cried out in pain, Ivan's grip lessened and the Russian seemed startled.

"Ah…? Oh, I broke it." Ivan murmured, looking surprised by his own actions. "Ivan did not mean to break Jett's hand." It was as close to an apology as Jett was going to get. Releasing Jett's wrists, Ivan reached forward and cupped Jett's face, no longer concerned he'd run with that broken hand of his. "But Jett upset Ivan."

"Calling that person important…does Jett want to make Ivan angry?" He mused, the voice that was usually so childish and void of guilt, being filled with sickly sweet venom that dripped from every word. Spiteful and angry, Ivan continued. "Even though Ivan did everything to make Jett happy. Even though he tried to remove the source of his suffering – Jett still won't pay attention to Ivan."

"What are you--!" Jett began to growl his protests, but quickly Ivan covered his mouth, not willing to let him speak.

"Nyet. Let Ivan speak." He chided firmly. "Da, Ivan tried to kill the little brat. Do not glare so much." He chuckled when Jett scowled at him for the shameless admittance. "But, don't you see Ivan was only doing it as favour for Jett? Can't you see that you're being fooled by that boy? You're not even a country anymore!"

That seemed to be a sore spot for Jett, enough to get him to bite Ivan's hand, much like he'd done a year ago to get Germany to release him. Though, this time it didn't work. Ivan's cold gaze remained impassive and his hand was not withdrawn. "Foolish." He murmured under his breath and with his hand jammed in Jett's mouth now, he further gagged the male who struggled to breathe. "Does it hurt? No longer being Australia? If only you'd let me kill the child – you could still be a nation."

"I hate him." Jett was surprised by the bluntness in Ivan's tone. He knew Ivan probably hated lots of things and people, but to hear it outright without a smile or giggle – it was scary. "You raised him. You, who grew up being hated and living in the cold – someone like me. But you raised the child, gave him love and warmth – gave him everything anyone could possibly ask for from the moment he was born and what does he do? He takes everything you offered and gives nothing in return!"

"I hate his smile the most. The warmth he gives off with the damn happy face of his. He and America are just the same! Spoiled, rotten, selfish children!" Ivan spat the last sentence. "I hate bad children the most!"

Slowly, the Russian realised that Jett wasn't squirming about anymore. He wasn't gnawing on the hand that suffocated him and when Ivan looked up – he was no longer glaring. Instead, Jett was wearing an expression that almost looked like sympathy. Ivan was encouraged by this, Jett must have understood his reasoning. He was sure Jett would realise how awful Christian was and get rid of him and so he continued, a little bit feverish in his delivery of the hopeful words. 

"You see? Ivan only did what was best for Jett. That's all. But even so…you broke your promise. Jett you said you'd be Ivan's friend, but you hated him in the end just like everyone else!" Russia was afraid. He'd been scared from the moment their alliance was broken. He remembered clearly how close he'd been to his goal, how close he was to killing Christian and Ivan vividly remembered Jett getting in the way. Ivan cared little for most others, he was even aware that his behaviour towards Jett was simple possessiveness. Even so, when he'd seen the other get in the way of his pipe – Ivan had been terrified.

Even when the pipe hit a third target and Ivan was restrained by Germany, the fear lingered. Ivan knew the second Jett got in his way, that he'd made a mistake. He did not regret going after Chris, he did not regret his choice to kill him and if there was any regret, it was only failing to do so. What Ivan feared was this – those green eyes filled to the brim with loathing.

Every day after their little war skirmish came to an end, Ivan had seen only that on Jett's face. He had been avoided and scowled at whenever their paths crossed and despite all the promises Jett had made to him, Ivan was sure that he'd never be able to feel the other's warmth again. Ivan was hated and feared – he lived in a world where that was all there was on offer. He was a country, there was no hope for friends or loved ones, but he'd been foolish enough to take Jett's word for it.

All because Jett seemed so similar to him in situation and had turned out so different from himself. Jett was warm and Ivan was cold, Jett was angry and Ivan was sweet. They were so massively difference and yet their loneliness had been matched.

"I thought…" Ivan murmured, dropping the third person pretence fully. "That if Jett could be so warm…perhaps I could feel warm as well. I was so sure this time…that I could smile normally."

Ivan's head bowed, his eyes shut tightly as he fought against an overflow of emotion. So many months of wanting to catch the other male off guard had built up so many unwelcome emotions in the large country. Ivan would have expected Jett to run or shout when he released him, the hands that had trapped the Australian falling to the ground to support himself instead. So, he was of course surprised when instead of fleeing, Jett reached out and young jabbed Ivan between the eyes with his index finger.

"You bloody fruit loop." Jett scolded harshly. "Just what the hell goes on in that head of yours is beyond me." 

Confused and uncertain, Ivan looked up at Jett. The other regarded him with a frown, but once their eyes met Jett gave a single sigh and then his face lit up in a grin. Thrown off balance by the expression, Ivan continued to stare, unable to think of the words to say. 

"Listen here, you great oaf, I don't hate you." Ivan tensed all over at those words. They had to be lies, Jett had to be lying. Ivan felt sure of this, but when he looked at the smirking male, he found no hint of dishonesty in his eyes. "I'm still pissed as all hell, but I don't hate you." Stressing the words, Jett looked down at his injured hand with a grimace. " _Really_ pissed." He amended. 

"Ah…Ivan didn't mean to." Ivan spoke up quickly, looking at the quickly swelling wrist with a frown. He hadn't meant to actually break it – he'd only wanted to punish Jett a little bit. As if trying to fix his mistake, Ivan held Jett's wrist, watching as the other let out a pleased sigh. His hands were always cold and it made for a good makeshift icepack for Jett's wrist.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. You're like a bloody child with the strength of a bull – no damn control. Reminds me of Alfred as a kid." Ivan couldn't understand why Jett was talking to him so normally, but it didn't seem like a bad thing either. "Look, you can't go doing this stuff all the time. You can't be cornering people in greenhouses and breaking their wrists. How are you going to make friends like that?"

"You were avoiding me." Ivan replied meekly. "I didn't have any other options." 

"That's bullshit." Jett snapped before taking a deep breath to calm down and change his reply. "I guess I was being a little evasive." _Just a little?_ "But you're overreacted as well." _Maybe a little_. "Ivan. You can never hurt my brother." Ivan's expression fell at that. "Not now, not ever."

"But he--!"

"Ah!" Jett cut across Ivan who began to let out an unhappy string of 'kolkolkolkol' which usually settled Jett down, but he remained firm this time around. "I'm not going to forgive you for a while, you don't get the friend status back just yet and you should apologise to my brother as well." That would never happen and they both knew it. "But…here."

Ivan was surprised when Jett reached into his pocket and produced a small card. It took Ivan a while to recognise it – it was a plane ticket. "This is…?" 

"A ticket to my place." Ivan's gaze snapped up to Jett only to see the Aussie smiling. "Just as promised. Your prize. Come to my place in the summertime and we'll have Christmas together with everyone. I've kept it on me for about a year now – I couldn't give it to you immediately after what you did to my brother, but Christian seems to have forgiven you for it without a care in the world and I've been waiting to get it to you. But damn, Ivan." Jett sighed heavily. "You scared the crap out of me with that glare every time I saw you at a meeting – didn't even know how to approach you."

Shrugging, Jett finally grinned at Ivan again and concluded. "I'm glad I could finally get it to you."

There it was. Ivan felt the familiar warmth wash over him and despite himself, Ivan began to cry. Jett was shocked by the tears that soundlessly rolled down Ivan's face but very quickly he was smiling again and laughed, wrapping his arms around the Russian. "You're just a big kid, aren't you?" Ivan didn't understand the tears himself and ended up clinging to Jett, the hot tears burning his eyes and cheeks as they dripped one by one onto the ground.

"It hurts…" Ivan whined as he held onto Jett tightly.

"Ha, yeah, I know." Jett spoke in a soothing voice, holding the back of Ivan's head with his good hand as the male cried. "You haven't cried in decades, have you?" Ivan briefly recalled the last time he had cried, standing by an open window with gun in hand and Toris delivering bad news. So many years ago…had all that time amounted to the pain he felt now?

"But this is good. I've finally seen your true face, Ivan." Chuckling, Jett let Ivan cry. "I hope you can smile honestly as well. So, feel free to cry and even if the tears are painful – you can always smile as well." Jett smiled warmly. "I'll be here to remind you."

"Does this mean…Jett will be my friend?" Ivan asked in a small voice.

"Mate, I never stopped being your friend. Friends have arguments all the time. You're just in the penalty corner for a bit…but, you're still my mate." When hearing this, Ivan closed his eyes, reassurance flooding through his heart. Maybe, it was better this way. Jett was no longer a country, he could be Ivan's friend without politics…he wouldn't age and fade like a human and he wouldn't fear Ivan. 

This was perfect. 

Ivan wasn't going to give up monopolising Jett, though. Ivan would not be satisfied until Jett was always there to warm his heart and even if it burned every now and then…Ivan could still smile.

But for right here, right now…this was perfect.

 

...  
… ( _Back at the meeting_ )  
...

 

"J-Jett! What happened to your hand?" Arthur asked frantically when he saw the mess that was Jett's broken, swelling hand. 

"Ah…" Jett frowned, looking sheepishly between his battered hand and his mortified older brother. "…I punched a wall?" Jett tried to lie – he was never a good liar. Arthur opened his mouth to reprimand him before noticing that Ivan was standing just behind Jett, smiling eerily. Well, that answered that question and needless to say, no one mentioned it again. Though, Arthur did insist on tending to Jett's wrist and casting a glare at Ivan every once in a while.

Chris, on the other hand, looked between his brother and Ivan and grinned. He'd briefly learnt how to hate on the battlefield and while he was never going to be friends with Ivan, Chris no longer hated him. He didn't like him, not one bit but he refused to be that spiteful, angry Australia he could have become if things went wrong. For now, Christian was just glad that Jett had been able to get that ticket to Ivan, he knew full well how anxious his big brother had been to deliver it. Too bad his big brother was just a little shy, it took Ivan breaking his wrist to get Jett to finally speak with the Russian again. 

 _Honestly, brother_ … Chris mused while watching Arthur tending to Jett's hand, the Australian patient not making it an easy task with his complaining. _You're hopeless._  

Chris took one last glance at Ivan, catching the larger nation' eye. A brief stare was exchanged between them and finally they looked away from one another with the reaffirmation that they were never going to be friends. That was fine, but Christian wasn't about to hand his brother over to Ivan either – so, they may just end up being enemies again.

Well, that was fine to. Chris did not have to hate Ivan to fight with him.

 

…  
…  
…

 

_What We Want._

_A few days later._

 

"Are you sure it's alright for me to be here?" Jett asked as Prussia all but dragged his sorry ass inside. He and Prussia had only started spending more time together as of late. At first, Jett figured it was because Prussia wanted to agree with someone about not being a nation and…he wasn't wrong, but he wasn't exactly correct either.

"Don't be so uptight!" Gilbert snickered as he continued to tug on the reluctant male's arm, forcibly pulling him into the house. "Chris will be fine without you for a few hours."

"But--!" Jett began to protest, but as always Gilbert ignored his concerns.

"He's a grown man now – off doing big boy things. He doesn't need you there to baby him _all_ the time." Finally inside, Jett gave up arguing with a sigh – he learned fairly quickly that Prussia wasn't one to take no for an answer. "Don't look so grumpy, I have some new beer for us!" That did improve his mood just a bit. He and Gilbert had not grown out of their tradition of getting piss drunk with one another. "Besides, Luddy is out working right now." Gilbert said it casually, but neither of them missed how much that helped the Aussie to relax.

It had taken them some time to even get to this point. In the beginning, Jett had been massively scolded by everyone he came into contact with, whilst avoiding Russia and Germany like the plague for two very different reasons. However, there were only so many of them in the world and with Jett's gradually growing relationship with Germany's allies – inevitably they crossed paths a few times.

Each and every time they did happen to bump into each other, it went the same way. Jett and Germany would share a quick, often startled glance and then immediately look anywhere but at each other. Then they'd usually walk in opposite directions, not a word passing between them. Jett was used to this happening whenever he would be following Chris and scolding him and Germany would be doing the same for Feli and they'd accidently catch a glance of one another.

The worst situations were when Feli stopped to talk to Jett or Chris, making immediate escape impossible. Often Jett or Germany made an excuse to leave early, but it seemed as though Feli was working against them and often they'd exchange clipped, polite greetings. A whole year and that was all the two had said to one another.

No explanations, no apologies, nothing. Jett would have said something, but every time he saw the blonde German his gut would twist and his tongue felt like stone in his mouth. So, ultimately nothing changed and Jett guessed they'd stay this way forever. That was alright, Jett wasn't going to try and change anything, he didn't have the guts.

Noting Jett's expression, Gilbert smiled with a small sigh. "Come on, why the long face? You look like such a loser! Keseses!" Jett could have cried right then, right in front of Gilbert who – with an attempt to protect Jett's pride – tried to make him smile and return to normal again. Just like he always did. Jett was eternally grateful to have a friend like Gilbert. Instead of crying, Jett grinned. It was always such a fine line between smiling and crying. Still, Jett couldn't figure out why thinking about the whole thing made him want to cry in the first place.

"Oh for god's sake! Stop with that annoying laugh!" Jett exclaimed, lunging at Prussia to pinch and pull his cheeks punishingly. Of course, Gilbert simply laughed the whole time and it very quickly turned into a tousle. Jett ended up on the losing end fairly quickly when his wrist was touched. He barely let out a sound, but Prussia still let go instantly, his red eyes landing on the now lightly bandaged wrist and narrowing angrily.

"That bastard…" He muttered, always ready to rub some more dirt in Russia's eye. "Why did he break your fucking wrist anyway?"

"Ah." Jett let out a heavy sigh. "Get me something to drink and I'll tell you _all_ about it." 

"Time to spill some guts?" Gilbert asked, referencing the first time he and Gilbert ever sat down to drink and Jett snorted with a smirk.

"Time to spill some guts." He confirmed with a short nod. With that decided, Gilbert got off the ground and offered his hand to Jett, pulling him onto his feet. 

"In that case. To the fridge and then the lounge. We have all night to waste away." Gilbert announced, using a dramatic voice as if a show was about to begin.

"If you start singing again, I'll punch you." Jett muttered bluntly.

"Ah but, Jett, mein dear frauline." Gilbert snickered, annoying Jett with his choice of words. "I have a beautiful voice, it must be set free!"

"So help me, I will _break_ your face – with my _broken_ hand." Both Jett and Gilbert laughed all the way to the booze and it only went downhill from there.

  
…  
...  
…

 

"So, you're telling me…!" Gilbert slurred loudly while slumping forward in his seat next to Jett.

The two of them had a habit of hitting the drink too fast, too hard when they had their annual gut spilling. Of course they ended up a complete mess on the same lounge, badmouthing other people and if Gilbert got really out of hand, talking about the glory days and how awesome it had been. Jett was slumped back with his arms dangling lazily over the back of the lounge, facing up towards the ceiling.

"That bastard broke your wrist because he's jealous 'o your little bruder?" Prussia finished and with his words, tossed his beer into the air, successfully getting it onto Ludwig's carpet, something he'd pay for later like always.

"I didn't say _that_." Jett groaned in response, though the way he said it made it sound like that was exactly what he'd made it out to be. "He's just a big kid, ya know? Big, crazy fruit loop."

"Don't tell me you _like_ him!" Gilbert exclaimed, mortified by the idea, not that Jett didn't understand why.

"Oi! I'm still angry at 'im, but I still like Ivan just fine." Jett defended both himself and Russia a little. "Besides, he's coming to Christmas this year so you're just going to have to, suck it up!"

"Jett!" Prussia whined, leaning over to cling to his friend's torso and begin sobbing hysterically as Jett tried to pry his drunken friend off. "You _cant_!"

"I can and bloody well did." Jett argued while pushing at Gilbert's face to try and dislodge him. "Jeez, let's just play nice with him. He's worse to have as an enemy."

"Try living with him." Gilbert huffed angrily and Jett stopped trying to push Gilbert off him. In fact he looked guilty and sad, even while drunk Jett wasn't completely lost with other's feelings, especially Gilbert's. Resting his hand on Gilbert's head, Jett ran his fingers through the former nation's white hair and sighed – apologising with actions before speaking.

"Sorry. I know it's hard for you." Just as Jett had demanded, Prussia had told Jett all about his time with Russia. In exchange for Jett's original explanation of his past, Jett got information about Gilbert's that still made him sick to this day. No, Jett did not and probably could not hate Ivan, but he certainly hated what he'd done.

Noting that Jett wasn't mucking around anymore, Gilbert sat up to peer at his drinking buddy closely. "Hey, don't kill the buzz." He complained. "I'm fine, see?" To prove his point, Gilbert pointed to the upturned corners of his grinning face.

"But…do you really need to hate him now?" Jett asked curiously. "Gilbert, you could get along with Ivan. We're not countries anymore, so--" 

"Stop." Jett was surprised by the firmness in Gilbert's tone. "Don't speak like that. I am East Germany and you are convict Australia." 

"Hate to break it to you, but that's not a country. That's a time period." Jett chuckled.

"Fine then! Be a stupid time period!" Gilbert exclaimed thrusting his hands into the air. "Just don't say we're nothing."

"What? No, no, I didn't mean that." Jett shook his head firmly before looking down at his bottle thoughtfully. "I only meant…there's no risk anymore." 

"What do you mean?" Gilbert blinked, looking at Jett curiously. "Do you think he can't hurt you because you're not a country? I think that broken wrist of yours says otherwise."

"I don't mean him hurting me. I mean us hurting them." Gilbert still looked confused so Jett continued. "We're not nations, we can't wage war anymore. We don't need allies or enemies, we have no country to govern so there's no need to be careful about making friends."

"We've never made friends before, not really. We got along and tried not to hurt each other, but as countries we had no choice but to fight and be alone. We were so bloody alone…but us two – we aren't limited like that." Jett turned to look at Gilbert, his eyes ablaze though his ramblings could be considered drunken speak. "We don't age like humans, we can't die like they can and we're not restricted by being a nation. Don't you see, we're perfect for them!"

Gilbert was quiet before sighing heavily. "Ja, I know." Jett was a little surprised by that answer. "I gave up having a normal life, a human life, at Fritz's grave. But like this, I can look after mein bruder and stay with idiots like Spain and France – this is perfect."

"You're not…sad?" Jett was surprised. "About not being a nation?"

"Ha! I miss it from time to time." Gilbert admitted. "The glory days, the wars and victories. The days when the awesome me was feared and respected! Ja…I miss it. But, I am not sad because I can still be here."

"Hmpf, you were thinking about all this when you punched me, weren't you?" Jett mused and got a hard punch on the shoulder from Gilbert.

"Ja, and don't you ever try that crap again!" Gilbert scolded before taking another gulp of his beer. "Besides, I'm not lonely, are you?"

"No." Jett answered immediately. "Not at all."

"Gut. But they still are." Gilbert mused. "Nations who can live forever cannot be friends with humans because they leave too quickly and cannot be with one another because their humans demand war. They are the ones that are lonely. So…" He raised his bottle to Jett and smirked. "Us big bruders will just have to keep them company." Jett clinked his bottle against Prussia's and with one more little raise, they both tipped back another bottle. They were moving from a little buzz to completely pissed. 

There was a slight shuffling at the front door, but Jett didn't catch it as he gulped down his beer – Gilbert, on the other hand, had been waiting for that sound all night. "Oi." He called Jett's attention and once the Aussie lowered the bottle, Gilbert reached out and grabbed him by his shirt. "Don't hit me too hard."

"What are you--ngh!" Jett began to ask what Gilbert was up to, expecting they were going to have another round of 'kick-the-shit-out-of-one-another-for-stress-relief'. But was startled when instead of a fist, he got a kiss. Gilbert's kiss was rough and while Jett complained into the contact and tried to shove Gilbert off, he only ended up pushed against the arm of the lounge, still kissing the albino.

From time to time Gilbert would get a little too touchy-feely for Jett's liking when they drank, but he'd never kissed him before. To make matters worse, Gilbert's hands were…wandering. Jett tensed when his shirt was pushed up, exposing old scars on his chest and stomach to the frigid air. Confused and a little bit trapped, Jett did consider punching Gilbert once, _really_ hard in the face but he never got that chance.

"Bruder!" Jett could have curled up and died when he heard that voice breaking through the sound of his muffled complaints. "What are you doing?"

Much to Jett's relief, Gilbert pulled away from him in favour of glancing up at his own little brother. Whatever he was going to say was cut short because instead of Jett punching Gilbert – Ludwig did it for him. The force of the strike caused Gilbert to fall flat on his back on the other end of the lounge and Jett was so stunned that he didn't even argue when Germany gripped him by the upper arm and dragged him away from both Gilbert and the living room.

As Gilbert nursed his bruising cheek, he watched his brother drag the stunned Australian out of the room. "Hmpf." Smirking to himself, Gilbert sat back up and glanced up to Gilbrid as he came to sit on top of his white hair and chirp at Gilbert in concern. "Who's the most awesome friend?" He asked the bird with a grin and did not wait for an answer before singing. "I am!"

Throwing himself back down on the lounge, Gilbert sprawled out and got comfortable. "Now, they can't run away." Gilbert could almost feel his bird judging him, but he wasn't sorry for his little stunt. "Can't have them avoiding one another for the next hundred years, now can I?"

Outside of the living room, Jett was beginning to realise the terrible position that both Gilbert and Ludwig had put them in. Being led by the hand through the familiar halls, Jett noticed how Ludwig's shoulders tensed and his angry strides slowed with every passing second – he was starting to realise what he'd done as well. However, Ludwig was never one to give up halfway or shy away from conflict and so, despite the mounting tension of their silence, he did not let go of Jett's hand nor stop walking. 

It was only when Jett recognised their destination that he began to complain, tugging against Ludwig's grip and even going so far as to claw at the blonde's offending hand. Jett saw Ludwig's jaw clench and at momentary glimpse of the German's expression told Jett that even he wasn't sure of his own actions, Jett hadn't seen Ludwig look so ruffled in over a year now, it did not do any favours to Jett's growing anxiety.

Despite his obvious protests, Jett ended up being pulled roughly into Ludwig's room, the door slamming shut behind them. Once the echo of the door roughly shutting faded away, Jett and Ludwig were left standing motionless in the middle of the German's room. Jett took a single glace around and frowned. Everything was spick and pan, not a file out of place or a spider web in sight – meticulous as always.

Jett glanced down to Ludwig's hand, still painfully gripping his own, but Ludwig himself hadn't so much as turned to look at Jett. Just judging by the mortified expression he was wearing, Jett guessed that his own actions were finally sinking in then, leaving both in a poor position.

"Let go." Jett finally spoke, emphasizing his words with another tug at his wrist. He had hoped that this would give them both a chance to escape the situation. He would just run away, he didn't need to stop and shout at Ludwig. However, it had the opposite effect.

The hand that gripped his wrist tightened and before Jett could further protest, he was jerked forward roughly by Ludwig. "Are you really so eager to get away from me?" Ludwig growled angrily, turning to face Jett. "Is it really that awful to look at me?"

"I said, let go!" Jett bit back, refusing to acknowledge Ludwig's questions. He didn't hate seeing Ludwig – or maybe he did…it was difficult to tell. All Jett knew was he wanted to escape this place and so he kept trying to weasel his arm out of Ludwig's hold. Damn this man's iron grip and blast his sore wrist!

 _Why am I always used like a ragdoll?_ Jett lamented with a low groan. Surely, people like Ivan and Ludwig would benefit more from a punching bag instead of using him. 

"Nein!" Ludwig snapped, again pulling Jett back and this time he grabbed hold of Jett's other wrist, trapping the male up against his back. Jett squirmed, though he knew perfectly well how poor his chances were. "I won't let you run away from me again."

"Me?" Jett snarled back, his anger getting the better of him. "What about _you_? You've been running away just as much as I have!" Surprisingly, Ludwig recoiled at Jett's rebuttal, his grip lessening just slightly.

"Well…that is…" Ludwig muttered, struggling to find the words to use in his defence. Gritting his teeth, Ludwig shook his head furiously, dispelling all uncertainty as he found his tongue again. "That's not important!" Jett scoffed, enraged by Ludwig's shameless dodging of the question.

"For god's sake, Ludwig!" Jett snapped, frustrated by the stronger male's grip. "Let go of me this instant, you can't hold me like you did back then!" Jett whipped his head around to scowl at Ludwig, but froze when he noticed the German's usually composed face on the brink of tears.

"Would you rather be looking at my bruder?" Taken off guard by the bitterness in Ludwig's voice coupled with those words, Jett was momentarily stunned into silence and it only got worse from there. "It's infuriating, coming home all the time to an empty house – knowing Gilbert is out with you again and then…today I come home to that? I know you must despise me, but this is too much!"

"Ludwig…?" Jett tried to speak, but either Ludwig wasn't listening or he was too frantic to process anything besides his own desperate words.

"Do you think I don't know what I did was wrong? Do you think I need more punishment? Wasn't trying to kill yourself punishment enough!?" The grip that held Jett tight lessened and Jett felt the taller male slump slightly, almost using Jett's frozen form as support. "That day, I thought you really had died. I thought I'd caused you to kill yourself. I couldn't…I can't bear it! Was that alone not punishment enough? Do you really hate me that much, Jett…?"

"You…" Jett grit his teeth, eyes slowly narrowing into a furious scowl. "You fucking bastard!" Jerking his hand free in Ludwig's moment of weakness, Jett was able to turn and land a solid blow on Ludwig's jaw, effectively pushing the other male onto the ground. Wordlessly, Ludwig stared up at Jett with wide eyes, though his expression gradually fell into one of acceptance as though he'd always been expecting Jett to respond to him with spite and revulsion.

"You, of all people…how dare you make claims on my hatred!" Jett shouted, well aware the whole house – including Gilbert – could probably hear his ranting. "You're the one who used me, you're the one that lied to make me be your ally. You twisted me, manipulated and controlled me, I did awful things because of it! Why should I like you at all?" 

"Ja…I understand." Ludwig murmured quietly, that pitiful expression still lingering on his face – causing Jett's blood to boil further. How dare he look so hurt, how dare this bastard look like the victim! Why was Ludwig the one that looked hurt right now? Before he could control himself, more angry words spewed forth, all his frustration and anger from the past year coming out.

"I trusted you, I did everything you asked without fail and even then, you tore me apart piece by piece. My body, my heart and my head – you took everything from me!" Jett saw how Ludwig cringed at every vicious word, but Jet didn't slow his verbal assault for a single second. "My brothers lost faith in me, they got hurt and I was the one doing it – all because you got in my head. You ripped at old wounds and made new ones and for what? For your selfish desire to get back at my big brother? You made me into your fucking tool and the whole time you smiled at me and made promises of friendship! You knew how lonely I was and you abused every weakness I had." Jett knew it was not all Ludwig's fault – he could have said no, should have said no but Jett had been too far gone to refuse the affection Ludwig had offered. Too afraid and lonely to refuse anything he offered. 

"My brothers, my friends, _your_ friends – everyone got fucked over because of this, because of your petty grudge! I should resent every part of you – every single breath you take should insult me because you still have the indecency to talk to me about loathing!" There was a pause as Jett sniffled, only just able to spit out the last and most painful thing he had to say.

"And worse…worse than all of that – you tricked me into loving you!"

Jett brought his hands up to his face, desperately trying to bat away pathetic tears. He wanted to be angry, to be strong and give Ludwig every scathing word he deserved, but instead he was reduced to a sniffling, trembling mess. Jett knew he was a cry-baby, but even so the last person he wanted to see him like this was currently staring directly at him. Jett almost wished he'd died, so that he did not need to face these things – he could just be content in death and let everyone else bear the burden. But even while he considered the selfish thought, Jett knew he couldn't unload all his problems onto the living – even if it was Ludwig.

"Love?" Ludwig repeated the word in a whisper, surprised etched into every inch of his face. Jett couldn't remove his hands as he feebly tried to control the tears.

"You bastard. Why did you have to do that? Of all the things it had to be, it would have been less painful if you had just beat me, I can handle that. But this? This is too cruel." Jett gave a single bitter laugh as he looked at Ludwig from one teary eye. "The best part of it all is…I can't hate you. No matter how fucking hard I try to hate you, I can't stop loving you." It was hopeless, Jett couldn't stop crying. On top of the pain he'd let build up over the past year, he'd also just admitted out loud what he'd felt for the German – it was humiliating at best. "Why did you have to steal my heart as well? Why do I have to love you?"

For the most part Ludwig was silent, watching with wide eyes as the Australian cried while admitting to quite the opposite of what Ludwig had thought he'd felt. Slowly, Ludwig's eyes hardened and with a firm shove off the ground, the blonde pulled himself back onto his feet. Jett just started to lower his hands when Ludwig's arms wrapped around him tightly. Jett's eyes widened as he was pressed securely to Ludwig's broad chest, it was not normal for this to happen – for someone else to comfort him and especially not someone like Ludwig. For some reason, Jett had always figured that at the end of everything, he'd be the one offering comfort and helpful parting words – but instead he was clumsy and unable to even form his own thoughts fully.

"I'm sorry." Ludwig whispered to Jett, his arms giving the smaller nation a small squeeze. Jett stood motionless in Ludwig's arms, unable to fathom why it was that Ludwig was holding him this way to begin with. As he stood there, Jett realised how warm Ludwig's hug was, surprising from a nation known to be so callous and stern.

"Why…?" Jett murmured only to feel Ludwig tighten his arms further, more clinging to Jett than hugging. Ludwig offered support even when he himself was in need of someone to catch him. Then Jett felt it, the slight warmth that hit his shoulder with a quiet splash, warm and wet. "You're…crying?" Jett could hardly believe it – Ludwig crying? It seemed so impossible that he barely believed it.

"I'm sorry…" Ludwig repeated, his voice barely above a whisper as it broke on the last word. "I cannot ask for your forgiveness, but know I am sorry." Pulling back slightly, Ludwig gave Jett one more stare, his eyes still not devoid of the tears he had yet to shed. "I will never allow you to see my face again, I will go my own way and leave you alone – I promise you won't need to hurt anymore. So, bitte…be happy."

Jett watched at Ludwig took a step away from him and finally let himself out of the room. Ludwig had escaped and left Jett standing there on his own, looking at the space Ludwig had once been and yet for some reason, the tears didn't stop. Why was it that when he saw Ludwig's face, his chest felt tight, but when the other was gone the pain became unbearable? Jett was no longer lonely, his brothers and friends were everywhere and he was not afraid of being left behind anymore…so why did it hurt so much to see Ludwig go? 

Now alone in the room Jett glanced around curiously, everything was in the same place it had been when he was last here. Nothing changed from Ludwig's usual routine, he was too organised for it. "Uh?" Jett stopped when he noticed only one change in the whole room. "A drawer?" Of course he was curious, Ludwig didn't seem the type to like the style of drawer by his bed, it almost seemed like he'd placed it there out of necessity. Jett walked over to the new addition to the room, trying to take his mind off the painful aching in his chest. However, when he opened the drawer, it only got worse.

"…!?" Jett tensed when he recognised the fractured jewelry that sat, nestled comfortably in the drawer. It was his necklace, it was his heart. Shocked, Jett stared at the familiar item. He had been seeking it out for a year now, but he'd never thought to check with Ludwig.

"Why would he keep this? It's broken anyway--!" Jett was speaking to himself as he reached to pick up the fragile necklace, only to find it had been mended. Clearly in his mind he recalled it shattered over the ground, unable to be fixed in his opinion, and yet here it was. The cracks were visible and it was not a perfect fix by any means, but sometimes things couldn't be put back the way they had been before. But, it looked as if someone had carefully put it back together, painstakingly trying to mend what had been broken. As Jett stared down at the necklace in his palm, it occurred to him that Ludwig must have done it. He could imagine the German becoming aggravated as his large hands fumbled with the delicate shards.

Jett could clearly see Ludwig sitting at his desk, working under a bright lamp in the middle of the night – frustrated and determined as he put it all back together. The thought was so much like Ludwig that Jett ended up laughing, the sound genuinely happy and surprising to Jett. It was strange to smile so warmly when thinking about someone who had wronged you, right? Jett understood this and yet when he imagined all of Ludwig's different expressions, he couldn't help but smile.

Ludwig's rare smile or his flustered blush, they made him equally as happy as when he'd see Ludwig give him that indulgent glance or even when he'd lightly scold him for his behaviour. Even the anxious expression he'd worn as a child in Jett's colony days and the bright smile he'd make whenever Jett showed him something beautiful in the country. As Jett thought about it, he realised he'd seen all sorts of faces from Ludwig and, despite all of the bad, there was enough good to keep him smiling. Jett's gaze fell back down to his now recreated necklace. Ludwig must have been anxious when putting it together, he probably cut himself countless times while working with the sharp glass. Thinking back on it, the few times he'd seen Ludwig in meetings, his hands were always bandaged.

"Ludwig…why did you do something like this?" Jett whispered to himself before laughing weakly. "You're always putting me back together, aren't you?" The instant the words left his mouth, Jett tensed as understanding washed over him. 

 _Oh...now I see_. Jett thought, remembering how happy he'd been in the times he and Ludwig had been together. When it was normal, when Ludwig scolded him for his poor health or would perform small acts to make sure he was okay. Ludwig…was surprisingly kind. Jett knew better than anyone what madness could do to a person and what it could do to a nation and yet, Ludwig was still kind enough to protect something as silly and insignificant as this.

 _All this time…I've been relying on Ludwig_. Jett knew he had been clinging to Ludwig, long after he knew of his true intentions. Through all the fear and uncertainty, Jett ultimately wanted to stay by the German's side. Even when he knew it was wrong and what he was doing held no logical backing, Jett had wanted desperately to remain with Ludwig. _I've been relying on him to be by my side…but after the fight, after it was all finished. Ludwig wouldn't be with me anymore._

 _The one by Ludwig's side…wouldn't be me._  

Jett's hand slowly closed around the necklace as his eyes filled with familiar bitter tears. "I don't want that." Turning abruptly, Jett ran out of the room the same way Ludwig had. In his haste, Jett's balance was lost and he stumbled slightly while trying desperately to catch up to the male before he lost him. As Jett threw himself down the stairs, his eye caught sight of Gilbert who was standing casually by the front door.

Briefly, the albino glanced up and upon seeing Jett flying down the stairs he smirked. Without a word, Gilbert opened the front door and jerked his thumb in the direction of the front yard. Jett knew he was directing him to Ludwig and so he didn't stop for a second when his feet hit the bottom of the stairs, and instead he kept running, out the door and into the afternoon air. It was crisp and Jett felt a small shiver run down his spine as the sun began to set on the red and pink sky – Jett felt time moving by too quickly. A nation had centuries to live and for some reason, it still moved too fast for Jett.

Thankfully, Ludwig had not gone too far, not running as Jett had and it wasn't long before the Australian caught sight of him and immediately head in his direction. "Ludwig!" Jett shouted the older man's name loudly, causing the German to hesitate, his back straightening in alarm when he heard his name being yelled. Ludwig began to turn, but barely got full view of Jett before the Aussie tackled him.

Both German and Australian tumbled to the ground from the force of Jett's impact. Of course, Ludwig swore profusely in German while wrapping his arms around Jett to stop him from getting too battered when they hit the ground. Sore and confused, Ludwig rubbed his head and looked up at Jett who had landed on top of him. 

"Jett? What are you--?" Ludwig began to ask but was cut off quickly by the other male. 

"I don't hate you!" Jett shouted, his eyes still glistening with tears though he tried not to let anymore fall. "I don't want you to go. Ludwig, you made me a promise, you promised you'd stay by my side." 

"But, that…that was when…" Ludwig was still reeling from both the fall and what Jett was saying.

"I don't care! You promised me that you'd be by my side. I know to you it didn't mean anything, but I was happy. When you worried about me, when you'd smile or praise me – I was incredibly happy. I know it was all a lie, that our relationship was forged by convenience, but I don't care." Jett's fists bunched up the fabric of Ludwig's uniform. "I promised I wouldn't leave you alone either."

Jett glared at Ludwig, his face red from embarrassment and crying. "I fell in love with you…I've never loved anyone before, so take responsibility." He demanded furiously. "I haven't forgiven you for everything you did…but I can." Jett admitted quietly, knowing he was too forgiving by nature. 

"If I had died, I would have forgiven you right away…but that's not how it works. Ludwig, you have to earn my forgiveness fully! So, don't run away from me anymore and I won't run away from you either." Jett's voice lowered. "I know you can't love me and I shouldn't love you either…but I would be happy if we could just stay like this."

"This?" Ludwig repeated as he slowly sat up so he was eye to eye with Jett.

"Friends…" Jett murmured quietly. "If I can't hate you…and I can't love you – then we can at least stay this way."

Germany watched the other closely, not daring to believe what he was hearing just yet. Jett looked miserable, afraid of being rejected even in this small way, but that was fine, Ludwig wouldn't have thought twice about his choice. Reaching forward, Ludwig cupped Jett's cheek and leaned in to kiss the other gently. Jett did not pull away and instead leant into the kiss, returning the small display of affection.

Ludwig had once been avid about keeping Jett, against his will or otherwise – he'd been willing to fight for it, but in the end his desperation had been what ruined his chances. Now instead of fighting for it, Jett was offering to remain with him. They both knew that it couldn't be like before, but…Ludwig could be satisfied with this. With knowing that Jett did not hate him, Ludwig could be content. 

When the two broke apart there was a momentary silence before Jett chuckled. "We're still not right, are we?" He mused, knowing they were two terribly broken people in a fractured relationship. "But…we're real now." He added with a smile. "No more pretend."

Ludwig smiled slightly and gave a nod in return. It wasn't perfect, but nothing in their world ever was. "Ah…before I forget." Jett reached into his pocket and Ludwig was surprised to see the plane ticket he produced. "I want to give you this." Jett offered Ludwig the ticket, but before the German took it, his eyes drifted down to Jett's other hand and he tensed when he caught sight of the necklace he was holding. 

"T-That..." Jett followed his gaze and frowned, as if thinking deeply. "Are you going to take it?" Ludwig wished he wouldn't. It was not his to keep, but Ludwig wanted it all the same – he wanted to own that item because then, even if Jett did come to hate him, Ludwig would still in some way own his heart. It was twisted, but it gave Ludwig some sense of security.

"...Yes." Ludwig's heart dropped at Jett's answer. "It's my heart, I should keep it…but, only in exchange." Jett reached out for Ludwig's hand and gently placed the ticket in his palm before closing Ludwig's fingers over it. "The ticket for the necklace." 

Ludwig wasn't satisfied with that. He knew it was Jett's heart and while he had no right to keep it, Ludwig still wished he'd hidden it better. "But." Jett spoke in a surprisingly bright tone. "I'm keeping this, so that I don't forget where my heart belongs." Lovingly, Jett ran his fingers gingerly over the necklace.

"I can't imagine how hard it was to put this together again…I would’ve have broken it out of frustration." Jett laughed, knowing he lacked the patience to fix anything so delicate – Jett couldn't be trusted with his own heart. "I'll keep it close to me and now there aren't only three charms." He indicated to the three pendants from his three brothers. "I got a part of your heart as well!" Jett grinned when he said that. "It's not the same as love, but I'll be satisfied with this."

Ludwig couldn't help it, he kissed Jett again. This time the kiss lingered longer and they both knew it would probably be the last kiss they ever shared. 

That was alright. Ludwig and Jett weren't going to vanish any time soon; they had years and years to build a proper friendship. Ludwig had wanted to monopolise Jett, but he was content with this – seeing Jett happy and without a trace of loathing in him, was more than enough for Ludwig. He wanted Jett to stay with him just as Jett had wanted Ludwig to stay by his side; they were both terribly selfish and still they ended up happy. The two still had sins to atone for, but they could do it together, even if it took them hundreds of years. 

"Don't forget." Jett whispered to Ludwig. "My place, this summer. I'll be waiting so don't you dare be late, Ludwig."

"A promise." Ludwig replied gently. "I'll be there."

Both Jett and Ludwig smiled.

Yes, this was fine.

They had centuries and that was plenty of time to fall in love properly.

 

…  
…  
…

 

_In The Summer Time_

 

 

"Chris…" 

Groaning when his name was called, the Australian nation rolled over in bed and buried his head in the pillow, trying to block out that nagging voice.

"Chris. Get up." It repeated, obviously annoyed with Christian's attempt to remain asleep. "If you don't get up, I'm going to kick the bed over." Chris's groggy, sleep-addled mind barely registered the threat and didn't consider its likelihood for a second.

"Right then." The last straw drawn, the owner of the pestering voice took a deep breath, preparing to act on its threat. It was only then that Chris began to rise out of the sleepy haze enough to realise it was his little brother talking. If it was Zea making that promise then--…. _shit_!

"Zea, wai--!"Chris tried to jump up in time, but it was too little, far too late. The second his eyes opened, New Zealand had already catapulted Chris's bed into the air with one well placed kick. Shouting in alarm, Chris and his bed shot up into the air, in a flurry of sheets and a single falling mattress they all came tumbling back down with a series of painful sounding thuds.

Toby watched with eerie satisfaction as Chris ended up buried under the strewn remains of what had once been his bed. 

"Zea?" Toby glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his second, much more organised brother calling him from down stairs. "Everything alright?" He'd of course heard the whole house shake when the bed and nation hit the ground, but was not terribly alarmed. Wouldn't be the first time Zea resorted to this to get Chris out of bed in time for a meeting.

"Yeah." Toby called back casually, his gaze drifting back over to Chris who was beginning to emerge from the wreckage. Very much awake and very much bruised. "Everything's just great." He answered Jett with a smirk – completely guiltless. From under the debris, Chris gaze Zea a dirty look.

"I liked it better when you couldn't walk." For his words, the Aussie got his head squished down by Zea's foot trampling on his head. "Hey. Hey!" Chris squirmed, unable to retaliate as he was still neck deep under bedding. "Zea! Mate, mercy! Mercy, damn it!" Toby smirked, continuing to push Chris's head into the floorboards.

"You should have just gotten up on time." Was all Zea said in return and went about 'scolding' his older brother.

Downstairs, Jett stood in the kitchen, busily cleaning it. The bottles so often left to pile up in the corners had been bagged up and thrown into the recycling. The mouldy food in the fridge pushed out and into the trash. The bugs that were allowed to make nesting places in all manner of draws and crevices, evicted from the house. Cleaning was not his strong suit, but Jett was giving it his best go.

Once the house's cobwebs were cleared and what spiders he could find, safely placed outside – Jett had been able to focus on food. The fact that he was actually cooking a real breakfast was a new occurrence in the household. Jett decided that Chris and Toby should be eating right, so they'd begun trying to practice having three solid meals a day, Jett having burned or soaked everything he made at first. It had been so bad that Jett had called Arthur for advice on how to cook, perhaps not his best idea but Jett never struggled to eat Arthur's cooking, so it wasn't a bad place to start? 

Of course as soon as Arthur was asked, he ran to Francis to rub it in his face. Bragging about how someone wanted him to use his incredible cooking skills to teach them how to make good food. Needless to say, Jett got a few concerned phone calls after that. Finally when Arthur came over, Francis had insisted on coming as well and with the somewhat subtle direction of the Frenchman, they were able to cook food that was edible. Arthur had gone away thinking he'd taught his little brother well and France left with a sense of relief, knowing that Jett would not accidently poison his brothers.

Since then both Arthur and France were common occurrences in the household, gradually increasing and decreasing the quality of food with each of their individual lessons. It had taken some time, but finally Jett had mastered the basics and was able to make a variety of dishes for dinner and breakfast. That morning he was cooking a little more than normal, nerves getting the better of him as he continued to make extra servings of bacon and eggs that they didn't need – even with Christian's large appetite.

It was only after he'd finished the third plate of bacon that Jett realised he was stress cooking. With a sigh, he turned off the stove and looked over the excess food and laughed at himself. Leaning back against the counter, Jett took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Everything was clean, everything was set up and so far nothing had gone wrong. Jett had made sure to double and then triple-check everything. There was no reason to be panicking like this, but he still felt nervous.

A glance at the cracked clock on the wall and Jett frowned. He'd been on edge for the past week leading up to this day, but now they only had an hour left – at best – and he couldn't think of what to do. Everything had been set, but Jett still had the sense that he had to do something with the time drawing so near. Perhaps, why there was now a mountain of eggs and bacon on the bench. 

Closing his eyes, Jett took a moment to simply be there. The sounds of kookaburra's laughter drifted lazily through the summer air with the cry of cicadas constantly echoing around in a low thrum and this was what made up silence in Jett's world. Distantly, he could smell barbeques being lit and meat cooked up and Jett knew if he was to go to the beach he'd find plenty of sausage sizzles and ice creams on offer for the families that had flocked to the summer-bathed beaches to celebrate the time of year.

Tacky decorations littered every house, every tree and yard in the nation. Santa drinking a beer or falling out of a tree were just as commonplace as Santas' seen in swimmers and a surfboard under their arm. Jett had to chuckle at the absurdity of it all, but as he stared lazily out his window and thought of all the children excitedly building snowmen from sand and running through sprinklers – Jett felt relieved.

"The world we dreamed of, huh?" Jett smiled faintly to himself. It wasn't perfect, by any standards, but this was still their home – still the place they'd talked about in the darker days of the past.

"Big brother?" Jett's eye opened again as Zea stepped into the surprisingly clean kitchen. "Should we go soon?"

"Did you get Chris up?" Jett asked, curious as to all the racket he'd heard earlier and judging by the happy expression on New Zealand's face, Chris was going to be fairly sore today.

"Give him ten minutes." Toby responded with a shrug.

"To get changed?"

"To get out from under the bed." Jett scoffed and Toby's grin returned. Well, there were worse ways to be woken up in the morning – though, Jett struggled to think of them off the top of his head.

"Eat your breakfast." Jett chose to ignore the possible peril that his little brother was in and instead gestured to the food he'd made for Toby and Chris.

Toby took one look at the pile of food and frowned. "All of it? I don't want to look like America."

Jett whacked Toby on the head with his spatula for that. "Cheeky brat, just eat your damn food and be quick about it. As usual, Chris has put us behind schedule." Jett complained while he cleaned the bench for the fourth time that morning. 

"Brother…" Toby watched Jett obsess over the strangest things, knowing how anxious Jett was.

"Today, of all days, I know he wants to sleep in but I gave him until midday!"

"Jett." Toby spoke a little more loudly to catch the fretting brother's attention. "Everything will be fine. Rest. Eat. If you fuss so much you'll just upset your stomach and worry Chris." Toby paused, taking another look at Jett's tired face. He'd been working too hard again. "Relax, everything will be alright." Zea reassured Jett with a gentle smile.

"Right…right." Jett let out a heavy sigh, not realising how shallow his breathing had been. "Thanks Zea." With a vague gesture in the direction of food, Jett shooed his little brother away to eat. Satisfied that Jett wasn't about to have a panic attack, Toby sat down to eat.

Just then Chris appeared in the doorway, a complete mess with some blankets still tangled around his body. Jett took one look at his brother and smirked. "Hmpf, when are you going to learn to just get up?" Chris let out an angry huff and stomped into the kitchen, only to plonk himself down and start eating in silence – obviously sulking. Jett watched Chris shuffle about with that sullen expression for a little while longer before giving a heavy sigh. "Oh alright…" 

Walking over to the fridge Jett proceeded to grab out three ice-blocks and hand one to each brother. "After breakfast." He added firmly when Chris eagerly snatched for the treat. It helped Jett to calm down when he saw the two happy, even if it was a childish reason behind their smiles. He didn't need to be nervous, Chris and Toby were going to be right there with him – just like every Christmas before this. 

Only this time they were housing guests. The more, the merrier – in theory anyway.

 

…  
...  
…

 

"Stop fidgeting, Chris." Jett chided the younger Australian for his constant movement but at the same time, he couldn't stop fiddling with his hair. Jett was damn near pulling his hair out of the ponytail he'd taken the time to put it in. Most often his hair was a mess, but seeing as they were greeting guests today, he'd taken the time to brush it back into a proper tie and now he was ruining it through stress.

"You can try and stop him all you like, he's going to be jumping all night." Toby drawled, lazily eyeing his excited older brother. "He's just excited to see Indonesia again."

"Oh, come on!" Chris turned to look at his two blonde brothers. "This is exciting, you guys, at least pretend to enjoy it! America and everyone is coming over, so we have to be giving it our best smiles." 

"Smile?" Both Zea and Jett repeated the word flatly, not exactly as happy go lucky or smiley as the middle brother. Zea was known to smile from time to time and while Jett had improved greatly in the last year, he still wore a scowl more than he did a smile.

"Come _on_." Chris groaned. "You're excited as well, aintcha?" 

"Talk like that in front of Arthur and he'll slap you." Toby muttered bluntly.

"Or have a heart attack." Jett suggested with a shrug.

"Seriously, you two…" Chris frowned, frustrated by their teasing. "This year is special, you know? The whole family will be here. When's the last time we had Christmas with Arthur and everyone else?"

"Five years ago." Jett answered automatically. "Don't tell me you forgot."

"But you weren't there!" Chris exclaimed. "You just sent Toby and me, so that we could see the extended family. This year it's everyone. So, lets enjoy it, okay?" Jett was surprised by Chris' feelings on the matter but gradually he smiled.

"Alright, alright. Calm down. We'll have fun." Jett promised and Chris seemed encouraged by his big brother's smile and turned to look at the youngest Down Under boy. New Zealand rolled his eyes and then pointed to the corners of his mouth which turned up into a small smile – god knows he wasn't as showy or boisterous as his big brothers. Toby preferred to be quietly better.

"Oh, I think I see the boat." Toby announced, causing both Jett and Chris to jump to attention. "Jett, you should go and wait by the dock." 

"What? Just me?" Jett pointed towards himself dumbly, obviously nervous about playing greeter. Chris looked like he was about to speak up, so Toby grabbed his older brother by the shoulder, an icy smile on his face. Jett frowned, looking at the two of them uncertainly, but Toby urged him to go with a small shooing gesture. "Well...alright, but don't be long – come and greet everyone yourselves."

And with that, Jett left the two at the shore and went out onto the deck. Christian's expression fell as he looked over at his little brother, knowing that Toby wanted to have a quick chat. "What did I do?"

"Nothing." Toby answered flatly. "I just wanted to confirm that you were going to behave yourself." 

"What? Of course I was!" Chris grinned. "I'm excited for this, remember?"

"Hmpf." Zea snorted, casting a knowing glace at Chris. "Play nice with Russia and Germany." Chris's expression did become a little unfriendly.

"I'll behave if they do." He answered finally. "I know you think I'm not looking forward to this, Zea, but I really am. This is our first Christmas as one big family, I want this to go well. I'm Australia, remember?" Jerking his thumb towards himself, Chris beamed brightly. "I don't need to hate anyone, I only want to have a good time."

Toby sized up his brother's claims of peace and good intentions and must have been satisfied by what he found. "Well, alright." He allowed, finally releasing Chris. "This year will be the best Christmas yet." The two smiled at one another and then took off, eager to join back up with their anxious big brother. They arrived just as the boat was getting close to the dock and they could clearly see Alfred standing up on the railing – waving enthusiastically at the three brothers.

"Yo! Australian dudes, we came for Christmas!" His loud shouts echoed over the water as they drew closer. The boat had not even successfully come to a stop when the overexcited American leapt off of the railing – ignoring the alarmed cries of the other nations on board. Thankfully, Alfred landed safely on the dock and not a moment later lunged at the three waiting boys – enveloping them into a tight group hug. "Dude! This is going to be the most awesome Christmas yet. Oh! Lets catch some sharks, or ride in a kangaroo pouch!"

Those that had sensibly remained on board began to file off one at a time now that the ship was secured. Seeing this, Jett was able to weasel out of America's death grip, leaving Toby and Chris at his mercy for a little longer. Usually, it would be Chris doing the proper greetings, but the invitations this year had not been issued by Australia, they'd come from Jett and so, it was only natural he was there to say hello to everyone.

Those that held a similar excitement to Alfred came running along the dock towards the four males. Italy ran the fastest and he wasn't even in retreat. Jett laughed as Feliciano threw himself into Jett's open arms. He'd grown accustomed to Italy's enthusiastic hugs and didn't mind the close contact anymore. "Haha, good to see you, too, mate." Jett greeted the smaller male kindly.

"Ve! Jett, Jett, can we go and eat?" Italy asked excited. "I haven't eaten since we left!"

"Idiot!" Feliciano was grabbed from behind by his own twin brother. "We only ate an hour ago." Even as he belittled Feli, Romano's stomach rumbled. Growling under his breath, Lovino glanced at Jett with a hostile expression. "You do have food for us, right? That jerk bastard Spain is dealing with our bags, so you've got to feed us."

"Please do not be unreasonable, Romano." Japan approached the trio with a polite smile. "I'm sure that mister Australia had plenty of food."

Jett simply chuckled, finding both the brothers to be a bit of a handful. "Yeah, we got plates of bacon if you're interested." Feli and Lovino had refined taste and didn't seem terribly keen and even Japan was giving him an odd look, so Jett amended his original offer. "Don't worry, we'll be having a proper lunch once everyone is settled in." That did the trick as both the Italians were satisfied and with the promise of food nearby, they continued on down the dock – towards Chris and Toby. Japan waited a moment longer, bowing slightly as he faced Jett.

"Sorry to cause you so much trouble, Japan." Jett apologised for his little stunt a year ago, but to his relief Japan simply shook his head and smiled.

"It pleases me to see everyone enjoying themselves, there is no reason to be sorry." Jett looked at Japan, gratitude and relief written all over his face. "Oh, I will go and greet New Zealand and Australia, too, please excuse me."

"Formal to a point, huh?" Jett chuckled and nodded Japan off, he didn't mind a little bit of decorum after the familiarity of the Italian brothers. It evened things out a tad. Jett was still watching Japan go when he felt something tugging at his sleeve. For a moment, he panicked, thinking a ghost had grabbed at him, but after a few seconds of focusing he realised that he was overlooking someone.

"C-Canada! Jeez, don't scare me like that…" Jett frowned, realising he'd probably been ignoring Canada for a while to get him to actually try touching him for a response. "Ah, sorry – distracted, you know?" His former brother smiled at him faintly, at least not angry about being ignored for a while.

"N-No, it's okay. Don't think about it." Canada's quiet voice all but whispered as he spoke. "I've been here the whole time."

"Mattie." Canada and Jett glanced up when Matthew was called. France was walking towards them, two separate bags on his person – one with a large maple sticker slapped on it. "Honestly, mon cher. Don't forget your things."

"O-Oh! I'm sorry…" Canada reached out to take his bag from Francis as the blonde stopped him short.

"Non, I will carry it." He flashed the pair a dazzling smile. "Can't have my little Mattie straining himself with this heavy luggage."

"Isn't it heavy for you, too, frog?" Jett asked curiously, not missing the way Francis seemed to be struggling with the baggage. "You're a little weak, ain't ya? Just give it here, I'll take it."

"Non! You must stay here to finish greetings." France was stubborn Jett would give him that. "I am perfectly capable of…--oof!" Suddenly, the extra bag was jerked off of the Frenchman's shoulders and carelessly tossed over Scotland's shoulder.

"Aye, listen to the lad, Francis. You'll break a nail carrying heavy stuff." Alistair had his own items in a simple, worryingly small sack. When compared to Francis's highly decorated bag, it did look very brutish. Alistair glanced over to Canada and much like Francis, had no problem seeing the young country. "You too, you're only a wee lad, Mattie. Don't strain yer self with this stuff."

Jett watched the three for a while, a faint smile on his face. Alistair and Francis babied Mattie and treated him kindly. In living memory they had never overlooked Matthew, even when Arthur would occasionally forget his former colonies' name. They made a very cute family, Jett was envious of the days then Scotland and France were closer, they would have done well to raise Matthew together. 

Alistair finally looked over at his little brother, noticing the smile and scoffed. "Aye, lad." He approached Jett, bag still over one shoulder and sack in hand. "Sorry, but that lot have already gone to say hello to Chris and Zea." Jett assumed that Wales had been excited to see New Zealand again and Chris was probably off playing with Ireland already. 

A quick glance over his shoulder and Jett saw that not only had Wales slipped by to see Toby, but so had the Netherlands. Looked like he had brought Zea some more goods. Well, Toby certainly was popular.

"Figures." Jett sighed with a shrug. He didn't mind. "I'll stay here and greet everyone else." Alistair regarded Jett cynically for a moment before dropping his bag unceremoniously on the ground and using his now free hand to ruffle Jett's hair, completely ruining his attempts to keep it neat. Jett complained in wordless vocalisations, but Alistair only snorted.

"Ya don't suit combed hair." He announced while picking his baggage back up. "Though, I'm sure Artie appreciated the sentiment." Jett tossed a scowl at his older brother, but didn't curse or spit like he usually would – it was Christmas after all. "Right, lets have a look at this summer Christmas o' yours." Alistair mused and walked by his little brother with Francis and Matthew in tow. Mattie gave Jett a sympathetic glance and Francis even stopped to pat Jett's hair down a little bit – he couldn't let his host look like a complete drag.

"Still being bullied by the older ones, da?" Jett sighed with a smile as he glanced up, knowing the voice before seeing the face. Russia stood before him and despite the heat he was still wearing a scarf, Jett figured it was part of him by this point. 

"Hey, Ivan." He greeted the Russian casually, smiling as he did. "I'm glad you're here." Ivan's eyes opened and his smiled dropped slightly, just enough for it to appear as though his expression was genuine. 

"It is warm here, da?" Ivan glanced around at the summer-soaked land. "A summer Christmas. Ivan has never had one. It really is very warm…"

"Just like I promised." Jett beamed and gradually Ivan's face lit up in a smile to match Jett's. "Make yourself at home."

"How will Ivan know which room is his?"

"I left something special on your door." Jett smirked slyly. "I seem to remember a certain someone telling me a story about sunflowers in the snow." Ivan's face shifted into surprise and Jett's grin widened. "Go on, get settled in." Ivan stood motionless for a while longer before finally he smiled.

"I've decided I want to own you." Ivan announced casually and Jett only laughed. He knew Ivan was serious, but he wasn't too worried.

"Go on, you bloody fruit loop." Jett had made a habit of touching Ivan's forehead. A flick or a jab, it was all fine by him, but with Ivan being so much taller he had to rely on the mountain of a nation to actually lower himself slightly and, much to Jett's genuine pleasure, Ivan usually tolerated his little sign of affection. "Enjoy the warmth."

Ivan nodded slightly and began to walk off the dock. Jett turned to watch him go, wishing he would take off the scarf or at the very least some of his heavier clothes soon or he'd boil for sure. Well, then again, Ivan seemed to have his own air conditioning built into him, so maybe he'd be alright. "Or he might melt…a big melted Ivan looking puddle…" Jett murmured to himself curiously.

"What did that one want? If he bullies you, you tell me, lad." Jett jumped at the sound of his big brother's voice. Before he'd even turned to fully face Arthur, Jett was laughing. "What!" Arthur demanded, flustered by Jett's laughter. "It's not funny, I'm serious!"

"I know, I know." Jett smiled, his laughter residing as he took a step towards Arthur. "It's good to see you again." At those words, Arthur's expression softened.

"I had wondered if there'd ever be the day when you greeted me like that." The Englishman admitted quietly, beyond relieved that the day had finally come where his little brother accepted him.

"Come on, mum, don't get sentimental on me now." Jett made a small gesture for Arthur to come closer for a hug and Arthur happily obliged. Only to find that he was much smaller than Jett now. 

"Damn it, Jett!" He complained furiously. "Why did you grow up to be bigger than me?" 

"Hm, most of your kids did." Jett responded flatly. "Actually, I think that Canada is taller than you as well."

"Sh-Shut up!" Arthur exclaimed, mortified that all his little brothers ended up so much bigger than he was in human form. Jett continued to laugh at Arthur's frustration and eventually he pressed his forehead against Arthur's, to quell the other's anger. 

"Sorry, old man." He spoke gently. "Don't get angry, it's Christmas – please be nice." Arthur's temper gradually cooled and he even managed a small smile.

"Well, alright, just because it's Christmas." Arthur agreed quietly. He hadn't spent Christmas with this many people for decades – occasionally he spent it with his older brothers, but most of the time he was on his own. This was a special year. "Your house had better be clean this time." He added firmly. "Last time it was--!" 

"I took care of it, I promise." Arthur was about to drill him for more details on what he considered to be clean, but they weren't alone anymore.

"Yo!" Arthur jumped at the loud greeting Gilbert used to announce himself. "Guess what? This Christmas just got ten times more awesome because the awesome me has arrived!" He crowed arrogantly, causing Arthur to grimace and Jett to roll his eyes.

"I almost thought you were going to bail Gilbert." Jett responded to the person who could be considered his best friend.

"Me? Bail? _Never_!" Gilbert snickered before looking over Jett's shoulder. "France and Spain here already?" 

"According to Lovino, Spain is taking the bags in and France is probably fighting to get his manliness back from Scotland." Gilbert hummed in understanding and glanced over at Arthur.

"Come on, England, lets go catch up with everyone." He abruptly grabbed Arthur's arm and began to jerk him away from Jett. Both brothers were naturally surprised by Gilbert's insistence, but it only took a nervous clearing of someone's throat to remove any confusion. Arthur began to protest, but Gilbert only kept pushing the poor Englishman. 

Left behind was Germany, looking uncomfortable as he finished announcing himself with that awkward clearing of his throat. With Arthur being forced away by the surprisingly vigilant Gilbert, Jett was left with Ludwig. Jett looked at the German's nervous expression – he looked out of his depth right now.

Noticing that Jett was looking him at, Ludwig tensed. "I-I…ah." He stumbled over his words briefly before straightening up right, falling back on formality to hide his unease. "Thank you for having us, Australia, I am very grateful for the invitation." Germany recited words he must have known off by heart and it only caused Jett to chuckle.

Without a word, Jett stepped forward and reached out to touch Ludwig's cheek, getting the German to look at his smiling face. "Welcome home, kid."

Ludwig's eyes widened as he was addressed like how Jett would greet him when he was a mere boy. _'Come back whenever you like. This can be your home, too, okay?_ ' Those words echoed faintly in the back of Ludwig's memory. Slowly, Ludwig's formality left him and he returned the small smile that Jett wore. Taking the hand that brushed against his cheek into his own hand, Ludwig gave Jett's hand a small squeeze.

As a child, to Germany's eyes Jett had looked like the loneliest person in the world and then when Ludwig began to feel as though he was the one worthy of that title – Jett had ended up changing his mind. Ludwig looked at his former ally now and saw that while the scenery remained the same – Jett had changed, his smiled no longer caused Ludwig to feel sad. Jett didn't look lonely like he had to Ludwig's child self.

"Thank you, Jett." He murmured quietly, no longer speaking the words off a memorised script. "For staying." Ludwig had not forgotten their promise and neither had Jett because his face lit up into a bright smile. 

"This time, we're going to make happy memories." Jett said confidently. "No matter what."

"They look happy, don't they?" Gilbert chuckled from where he stood with Arthur, watching their little brothers with vigilant eyes.

When Arthur looked at Jett's smiling face he felt a little guilty, knowing it had taken all this to bring it back, and even now he smiled that way in front of the person that Arthur held the most responsible. Well…other than himself, that was.

As Arthur watched his little brother and Germany, he caught sight of a familiar image standing at the end of the dock, wearing a familiar smile. When Arthur's eye caught the boy's, that smile warmed and a quiet whisper reached Arthur's ears. 

" _Have all your wishes been granted just how you wanted?_ "

Arthur knew the boy was asking him directly, asking if all of his prayers had finally been answered. Arthur took another look at Ludwig and Jett – noticing the two smiling together. There was no hatred, only broken pieces carefully being put back together with tender hands. They needed time to mend fresh wounds, but they had all the time in the world and many pairs of hands to lend them support along the way. 

So with conviction Arthur smiled brightly, the ghostly apparition seeing this expression grinning all the same. "Yes." Arthur whispered with a small nod, causing Gilbert to look at him curiously, but Arthur didn't care. "Thank you."

From where he stood at the end of the dock the boy began to fade, small sparks of gold flying into the air as he disappeared, back to the hillside where he'd continue to watch over them no doubt.

" _Good answer, I'll leave the rest up to you. To you all_."

The boy's voice reached Arthur once more before he vanished away.

This was their way. They had not chosen death and hatred – they'd chosen to face the days ahead and live. It had taken more than one pair of hands to craft this ending and the knowledge that nothing could be accomplished through death and self-sacrifice.

This was the way they had chosen to go and while it was difficult and with the path still being paved as they walked on it – we're still making our very own way. The things that they had wished for time and time again, through all of the regret and mistakes – tomorrow might be achieved.

So, little by little, they continued forward. Those that had been broken and those that broke others, all continuing down the same path. There's no other way, but together and even creatures as lonely and loathed as countries, can look ahead and see that tomorrow can be even a tiny bit brighter and warm their cold hearts.

So, that one day, surely they'd all be able to meet again in the summertime.

 

…  
...  
…

Reunion- End

**Author's Note:**

> Jett=2p Australia/Convict Australia  
> I'm sure you figured that out.


End file.
